<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>down through the hollow sound by ZucchiniBread</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376623">down through the hollow sound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZucchiniBread/pseuds/ZucchiniBread'>ZucchiniBread</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aang Doesn't Run Away, Aang-centric, Air Nomads (Avatar), Airbending &amp; Airbenders, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-100 Year War (Avatar TV), Surviving Air Nomads (Avatar), against airbenders, and then it goes into canon divergence and the time skipping stops, im so happy i finally get to put the aang&amp;bumi tag, only a few, prejudice and xenophobia, some slightly graphic descriptions, the first bit of this is just scenes from aang's childhood, this isnt an oc story i try to stick with canon characters, we're dealing with a genocide here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:35:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>61,421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZucchiniBread/pseuds/ZucchiniBread</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Aang? I’m not going to let them take you away from me,” Gyatso said without preamble, walking into the room. </p><p>He watched as Gyatso took in the scene: the note on his bed, Aang fully dressed and standing at the window with his glider clutched tight, ready to leave. Gyatso’s eyes widened with the realization, and the look he shot Aang, so full of heartbreak, made his cheeks burn with shame. </p><p>“Aang?”</p><p>Aang’s shoulders sagged. Of course Gyatso wouldn’t let them send him away. For a moment, all he felt was relief. And then he dropped his glider with a clatter on the ground and rushed towards Gyatso, still standing in the doorway with his hand resting on the post. He wrapped his arms tight around his teacher’s waist and pressed his face into the warm woolen robes.</p><p>-</p><p>Aang stays. The world changes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aang &amp; Bumi (Avatar), Aang &amp; Gyatso, Aang &amp; Kuzon (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Best of Avatar: The Last Airbender, Fave atla fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. where the birds wait and the tall grasses wave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The caravan returned to joyous celebration. Six bison, each loaded down with four children and a chaperone, returning from the markets on the Earth Kingdom mainland. For many children it was their first journey away from the temple. Gyatso waited patiently, watching with amusement the joy of children returning to their friends, burying them in dogpiles or sharing trinkets. He stood patiently in the crowd, watching. It would not do for a monk to show favoritism.</p><p>Several children passed him by with loud, bright greetings. Someone threw a bushel of milksage into his hands, but he did not see who. In the openness of the courtyard, nearly the whole of the temple was gathered to greet the returning travelers.</p><p>“Monk Gyatso!” Gyatso smiled, turning towards the voice, only to see as Aang absolutely <em>launched</em> over several heads, and could only try to keep his balance as the boy latched onto him like a lemur. “Hi Monk Gyatso!” Aang chirped, right into his ear, when it was certain that they would not be toppling over.</p><p>“Hello Aang. How was your trip?” he asked, adjusting his hold on the boy.</p><p>“Great! I met a man with holes in his cheeks,” Aang said, puffing out his own cheeks, in case Gyatso was confused. Gyatso nodded sagely. “Many people have piercings.”</p><p>Aang shook his head. “No! Big holes, I saw his teeth!” he implored, squishing his own cheeks with his hands viciously, as if that would allow Gyatso to visualize the man. “I asked him how he drank anything, but he just laughed at me. That was rude.”</p><p>Without waiting for a response, Aang began to rifle through his pockets, nearly falling backwards at one point, if not for a well-placed gust of air that kept him upright.</p><p>“I got you something,” he said, then whooped triumphantly as he pulled a small cloth-wrapped bundle from one of his pockets.</p><p>Gyatso smiled warmly. “I thank you for keeping me in your mind during your trip.”</p><p>Aang did not acknowledge him, but unwrapped the little thing, and held it close enough to Gyatso’s face that his eyes crossed trying to focus on it.</p><p>“You said they’re your favorite,” Aang said, inching the dented (and slightly dirty) ginger lemon tart closer.</p><p>“They are! Thank you, Aang. It is rare to find such a treat this far south” Gyatso said, taking the tart and holding it by the wrapping. He noted that the wrapping was streaked with… something. It certainly was something, he could say that.</p><p>It was an appropriate gift – many children who first venture out into the world return with imprudent gifts such as knickknacks or trinkets – permanent things. Tea leaves, flowers, foods were all impermanent – the simple pleasure meant to be enjoyed but not held on to. Modest clothing or simple ceramics would have also been appropriate – but the children passing around small statues or frivolities would not have them confiscated. A permanent gift like those would be passed around to many people, and never held onto long. That way, many people could enjoy it. The tart was a very appropriate gift, and showed that Aang was applying what he was taught in his real life.</p><p>Part of Gyatso wished he had made an imprudent choice and come back with a carving of the Earth King, instead.</p><p>Aang glanced between his face and the tart, expectant. Then, he gasped. “Oops,” he said before reaching out and gently pinching a ladybeetle that had been crawling along the edge of the tart. He held the ladybeetle up to watch as well.</p><p>Gyatso brought the tart up to his lips and – oh dear, that did not quite smell like ginger lemon. He took a small bite, and swallowed it whole, ignoring the fact that the texture was dry and mealy instead of custard-like.</p><p>Aang was smiling, watching, waiting for him to take another bite. There would be no escaping this duty.</p><p>“Monk Gyatso! Excuse me! Monk Gyatso!” Maybe there would be.</p><p>Gyatso turned to the voice that called him, still holding the tart, if it could still be called such, in one hand, and holding Aang with the other.</p><p>Monk Lo was hurrying towards him, a frantic look on his face. Gyatso smiled. Monk Lo was only recently ordained, still very young, and was reluctant to be stern with the children (something they all knew and had very little qualms about taking advantage of).</p><p>“Monk Gyatso!” he said, then bowed at the last second before launching into discussion. “I am so sorry Monk Gyatso, but I have to ask if you could maybe, possibly take over my class on current navigation, because I’ve misplaced <em>all </em>the scrolls I had the students turn in last week, and I’ve ripped the wing of my staff but I didn’t realize until I was in the air and now it’s massive, and I <em>can’t find Lala</em>! How have I misplaced <em>her! </em>She’s a bison!” At some point during his tirade, Aang had wiggled until Gyatso set him down, then ran off to a gaggle of children that were painting the ground with pome-plum stain. Gyatso wrapped up the tart quickly, placing it in his breast pocket.</p><p>Monk Lo was nearly hyperventilating, and so Gyatso laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You need not address me by ‘monk’ as you are no longer a pupil.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“And if I am not mistaken, you did give the scrolls back to the children last week, did you not?”</p><p>“Oh. I did.”</p><p>“You did,” Gyatso assured him. “And your staff can easily be fixed.”</p><p>“It can,” Lo nodded.</p><p>“And have you checked the stables to see if Lala was there?”</p><p>“Not yet,” Lo said sheepishly.</p><p>Gyatso smiled. “I will happily teach your navigation class, so that you may bring your staff to the tailor, go find Lala at the stables, and look over your class material to ensure you are caught up for next week.”</p><p>Lo looked as though he might cry. “Thank you, Monk Gyatso,” he said wetly. He bowed and hurried away before Gyatso could correct him again.</p><p>He looked over towards where Aang had run off to, and saw the children gathered in a half-circle around the boy, who was holding a handful of little glass marbles. He cupped his other hand around them, and Gyatso smiled as they began to spin around, slow and wobbly, but picking up speed. Marbles, he thought, when used as a game to be shared, were not an imprudent purchase. </p><p>Then, a cry from the group as a collective, the unmistakable sound of marbles skittering on the stone, and most tellingly, a loud “OOPS!” from Aang. No lost eyes from the crowd, and so Gyatso laughed and walked away as Aang ran after the wayward marbles, moving through the crowd like a wind in the tall grass.</p>
<hr/><p>“Monk Gyatso?” the young man asked. Gyatso turned around and saw one of the guardians who had gone with the children to the markets hurrying towards him, a tall, thick man with dark brown skin. The welcome celebration had long since disbanded, and warm afternoon light spilled into the hallway where he walked.</p><p>Gyatso turned, smiled. He did not remember the man’s name. Perhaps he was only asking a quick question. “What can I do for you, my boy?”</p><p>The man shuffled. “I wanted to let you know about an issue we had with a few of your students in the city,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. Tseku! That was his name.</p><p>Gyatso put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Walk with me. What sort of an issue?” Maybe it was not Tseku. It would be wise to avoid using the name until he was certain it was correct.</p><p>The man, maybe Tseku, pursed his lips into a thin line. No! Not Tseku. Tseku was a little slip of a man, who often spoke thoughtlessly. This man was weighing his words before he spoke. It was wise, after all, to not use that name.</p><p>Choe? Choe sounded correct.</p><p>Choe spoke. “Some of your pupils had an altercation with a stall owner, who refused to let them buy his plants. Pupil Sonam blew the sand out of all his desert lilies. He very nearly summoned the authorities on our party. I was unsure how to discipline him, and so I wanted to bring the issue up with you.”</p><p>Gyatso turned, and the man who was not Tseku but maybe was Choe stopped walking. “And who all was in this party? You mentioned that it was more students than just Sonam.”</p><p>Choe (Dachoe?) nodded. “Pupil Sonam ruined the man’s lilies, but he was accompanied by Pupils Tashi and Aang, who encouraged his behavior.”</p><p>Gyatso hummed. “Did this man have holes in his cheeks?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Did the merchant say why he would not let them buy the plants? Did they not have the means?” Gyatso asked, returning to his walk.</p><p>Dachoe (yes, that was it) hurried to catch up. “It was on the third day of the trip, so they all had money left. I didn’t see what happened, but I saw Pupil Sonam, and talked with the man afterwards.”</p><p>“And so it was only you, Sonam, Tashi, and Aang in your party?”</p><p>“Yes, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>Gyatso turned to face him again, without slowing his walk. “Do you think that the situation was so escalated that this man would have been correct to call the authorities on a group of six-year-olds and their chaperone?”</p><p>Dachoe blinked. “No, Monk Gyatso, I don’t think it was warranted.”</p><p>Gyatso clapped him on the shoulder, then bowed. “I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I will be certain to discuss it with the boys. Good night.”</p><p>The younger man bowed respectfully, and then began to return down the hall they had just walked up. Gyatso twisted his lips – he had not intended to bring the man so far out of his way.</p><p>“My boy?” he called just before the man rounded a corner.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“What is your name, please?”</p><p>“I am Sernya, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>“Thank you, Sernya.”</p><p>Ah, a northern transplant. Gyatso smiled. Frowned. Who, then, was Dachoe? Oh, life’s mysteries.</p>
<hr/><p>“Pupil Sonam. I heard about that man’s desert lilies. Can you tell me why you destroyed them?”</p><p>“Well, the sand was very loose. It was easy.”</p><p>“Hm. Show me.”</p><p>“Like this! Phhhhpbst! Like that!”</p><p>“Impressive technique! Why did you practice this on the lilies, though?”</p><p>“The other plants he had had really thick dirt. It wouldn’t have worked right.”</p><p>“Which one of those plants did you want to buy, before you began practicing?”</p><p>“Oh, Tashi wanted to buy some onion-hats to give to Pelbu. Tashi likes Pelbu.”</p><p>“Did Tashi buy the onion-hats?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“’Cause I went phhhhpbst to the desert lilies and the man got mad.”</p><p>“Why did you do that?”</p><p>“I already <em>told you</em>. The sand was loose. It was perfect.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Pupil Tashi. I heard you were in the market for onion-hats.”</p><p>“Yes, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>“Did you know they grow wild at the base of the mountain?”</p><p>“… No, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>“That is alright! People rarely know that the journey they seek is the one they often overlook.”</p><p>“…”</p><p>“I heard about an altercation in the city. Did the man you tried to buy onion-hats from know they grew at the base of your mountain?”</p><p>“No, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>“Ah! So this man refused to sell to you for a different reason?”</p><p>“Yes, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>“Was this before Sonam destroyed the desert lilies?”</p><p>“Yes, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>“Why did he not sell you onion-hats, then? Were you out of money?”</p><p>“No, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>“…”</p><p>“…”</p><p>“…”</p><p>“Thank you, Pupil Tashi.”</p><p>“Thank you, Monk Gyatso.”</p><p>“Please give my regards to Pupil Pelbu!”</p>
<hr/><p>“Hi, Monk Gyatso!” Aang did not bow before giving him a hug, tight around the waist, as if it had been weeks upon lonesome weeks since they had seen each other.</p><p>“Hello, Aang. How are you?”</p><p>“I found a litter of baby lemurs!” Aang said. “Do you want to see? I’ve named them after my favorite fruits!”</p><p>Gyatso smiled. Very few of the children let so much of their personality shine through with the monks. Fewer still treated them like Aang treated Gyatso, like a parent instead of a guardian. It was unseemly, that an airbender should have such attachments – more so for Aang, in his circumstances. Gyatso should not encourage him. He always did.</p><p>“I would love to. I must first ask you a few questions about your trip.”</p><p>“Oh, about the plant seller? Sonam and Tashi said you talked to them about it. Tashi asked me to tell you he’s sorry that he forgot to answer your question about the onion-hats and he was embarrassed because he had to pass on your regards to Pelbu, but he doesn’t really talk to him and so he’s embarrassed because Tashi really likes Pelbu.”</p><p>“Hm. Perhaps you should accompany Tashi into the valley to collect some of the wild onion-hats that grow there, as a gift for Pelbu?” Gyatso offered, taking a seat at the small desk in the room.</p><p>Aang cocked his head. “Onion-hats grow in the valley?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Cool!”</p><p>“I wanted to ask you why Tashi was unable to buy from the man in the city.” Gyatso said, as straightforwardly as possible. To offer Aang another topic was to lose control of the conversation.</p><p>“Oh, he didn’t want to sell to airbenders,” Aang said, rolling his eyes. “He was really mean, and Tashi has been working <em>really hard </em>on talking to people better and so he asked again, which was cool of him, but the guy told him to go away, but he asked one more time for the onion-hats, and then the guy called airbenders vultures and he said we were thieves and then Tashi looked really sad so Sonam blew all the sand out of the desert lilies and it got stuck in the guy’s eyebrows, which was funny so Tashi stopped looking sad, and I laughed because he looked silly and shouldn’t have called us vultures because we don’t even eat meat, and so it didn’t make sense.”</p><p>Gyatso raised an eyebrow. “He did not sell to Tashi because he was an airbender?”</p><p>Aang nodded. “He was really mean. I thought Tashi might never talk again,” he said dramatically.</p><p>“Oh, we would not want that. Thank you for telling me what happened.”</p><p>Aang eyed him carefully. “Are we in trouble?” he asked.</p><p>Gyatso shook his head. “Not at all. Sernya simply wanted to let me know what happened, and I decided to find out on my own.” He smiled. “Now, where are those lemur pups you found?”</p><p>Aang beckoned him over. Gyatso rose and walked over to where Aang had been sitting on his unmade bed. Aang carefully lifted up his pillow and pointed to the small crevice where the bed did not quite meet the wall. Gyatso leaned over and saw a nest made from blankets and a few of Aang’s old robes, where five small, nearly hairless lemurs slumbered in a pile.</p><p>Aang held a finger up to his mouth, then lifted the blankets up just a bit, revealing the mother, who was sprawled out on her back, snoring in that chittering way that lemurs snored.</p><p>“They got kicked out of their nest by a kiwi crane who ate three of the pups, so I brought them here. The mom is Masan, and then,” he said, climbing back over to the edge of the bed by the nest. He pointed at the pups, “That’s Lychee, that Rambutan, that’s Mango, that’s Papaya, and that’s Melon, cause he’s big.”</p><p>Gyatso hummed. “Do you plan on keeping them?” he asked.</p><p>Aang shook his head. “No, I’m just giving them a house until they get a new one. That’s what Masan does, she’s making them a new nest by the creek. I can always visit them there, if I want.”</p><p>Gyatso smiled. “That is very good of you, to house them.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I believe,” he said slowly, “that there is an abandoned nest in the east shrine they could use.”</p><p>Aang grinned, leaping to his feet. “Can you show me?”</p><p>“Of course! It is very high up.”</p><p>“And the kiwi cranes don’t fly that high so they’d be safe there!”</p><p>“Perfectly safe,” Gyatso agreed.</p>
<hr/><p>Aang kicked his legs, too short to reach the ground but uncaring, talking around his hand in his mouth.</p><p>“Iths looth! Iths looth!”</p><p>Gyatso walked over to the windowsill where Aang sat. Behind him, the ground was small and far below. Gyatso grasped Aang’s wrist and pulled the chubby hand away from the tooth and felt it.</p><p>“That is ready to come out,” Gyatso said.</p><p>“I knew it! I asked Monk Tsering and he said it wasn’t ready until it actually fell out! He said he couldn’t pull it but can you pull it cause it feels weird when I drink water and I always think that there’s a rock in the water for a second and it’s annoying.”</p><p>Gyatso hummed. “Let me see." Then, he pulled back. “Okay,” he said.</p><p>Aang frowned, then gasped, poking around in his mouth again. “Iths gone!”</p><p>Gyatso laughed, and handed the small molar to Aang, who stared at it in awe. “I didn’t even notice!”</p><p>“It would have fallen out on its own – this way you will not swallow it.” He nodded towards the window. “Go on, or the next one won’t grow.”</p><p>Aang gasped, then flitted out the window, one hand grasping the wall still. He hurled the tooth on the roof of the tower, where it landed with a soft clatter. He floated back in and settled on the window ledge again. “What if the sparrows don’t eat it? Then I’ll be missing a tooth!” he asked worriedly.</p><p>Gyatso smiled. “It is not so bad - I do just fine.”</p><p>Aang shook his head. “Yeah, but you <em>had </em>teeth! What if none of my teeth ever grow and I go my whole life toothless?” he asked.</p><p>“You already have most of your adult teeth.”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Aang said, feeling silly. “When will I lose my last baby teeth?” he asked.</p><p>“Most children lose them all by ten or eleven – you’ll probably have all your adult teeth in the next year or two.”</p><p>Aang swung his feet out the window and hung upside down into the room. Gyatso turned back to his reading.</p><p>“Why do we have baby teeth? Wouldn’t it be easier to just have all your teeth right away?”</p><p>“It is not the nature of life to be easy or simple. We are not born ready for the world in many ways – we have no teeth and no language, we cannot walk and we do not know how to bend. Learning is at the core of growth.”</p><p>Gyatso turned around and saw Aang, face red from hanging upside down from the windowsill, staring at him.</p><p>“M’kay,” he said, then wiggled until he fell head-first onto the ground with a grunt. He stood and rushed out. "I’m gonna go play!” he called behind him, already halfway gone.</p><p>“Have fun,” Gyatso called back, trying not to laugh.</p>
<hr/><p>It was the monotony that got to him.</p><p>Aang loved his home, and always would. Even if the monks went crazy and threw him in jail (after making a jail) and never let him breath fresh air again, the soft light that always bathed the Southern Air Temple during the days, so far above the cloud line, the wide and breezy hallways that echoed every word and step, the chittering lemurs and lowing bison and singing larks, the talk, the wind. Everything about it was perfect.</p><p>Except the monotony. It wasn’t travel season – it was practice bending, do your calligraphy, learn your philosophy, weed the garden, go into the valley and get hay for the bison, learn your hymns, and travel nowhere fun at all season.</p><p>Gyatso was guiding him through an advanced kata. Aang wasn’t learning in large groups with his friends anymore, but he was okay with that. They were still learning forms he’d mastered months ago – it would be boring to keep learning the same thing over and over, even if it let him be with his friends.</p><p>The large balcony outside the elders’ rooms was their usual practice area – it kept them away from the other lessons going on, and afforded plenty of room for the powerful bending (and the powerful mistakes).</p><p>Upon completing the kata, Gyatso smiled. “Very good! Keep practicing, and you may be moving onto the next set very soon.” Aang beamed. They bowed to each other, and then abandoned the formality. Gyatso wrapped his arm around Aang’s shoulders and they walked down the stairs towards the courtyard.</p><p>“I wanted to let you know that for the next few weeks, Monk Gopal will be handling your lessons. I am traveling in an envoy to the Western Air Temple,” Monk Gyatso told him as they walked.</p><p>Aang grinned. “You’re going to the Western Air Temple? Are you stopping in the Fire Nation?” he asked quickly.</p><p>“Yes, we’ll likely make brief stops there.”</p><p>“Can I come?” Aang asked. Gyatso began to speak, but Aang continued. “I won’t get in the way at all, and I have Appa now so I don’t even need to ride with anybody, and I’ve never even been to the Fire Nation yet and everyone else has because I had quail pox when everyone went, and you’ll be there so we can still keep up with my lessons and I won’t fall behind at all, I promise.”</p><p>They had stopped walking and Aang was still several steps back, gesturing wildly as he talked. By the time he was done listing the many, very valid points as to why he should go, his hands were clasped neatly behind his back and standing ramrod straight, the absolute picture of responsibility. Gyatso raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Aang, I will make a deal with you. If you get your other instructors to agree that you are ahead enough in your work that you can take time away from them, I would be more than happy to allow you to come with us. The Fire Nation, after all, is most beautiful in the summer.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “It would be a rare treat, to see the dragon migrations.”</p><p>Aang grinned, bowed hastily, and then ran like the wind past Gyatso down the stairs.</p>
<hr/><p>Kuzon had taken his cup and inhaled into it, attaching it to his face. His mother swatted at him half-heartedly.</p><p>“Kuzon! This is completely inappropriate, set that glass down right now.”</p><p>He did, exhaling and then huffing into the cup so that it made a farting sound.</p><p>“Kuzon!” his mother gasped. Aang laughed delightedly in his seat.</p><p>“Hare, control your son.”</p><p>“Kuzon, listen to your mother.”</p><p>Another farting sound, before Kuzon’s mother snatched the glass away and placed it on the other side of the table. Kuzon’s father turned to Aang.</p><p>“So, Lang, Kuzon told us you don’t eat meat,” he said.</p><p>“Oh, it’s Aang. And I don’t, cause airbenders don’t eat meat,” said Aang, picking at his plate of side dishes.</p><p>“That’s very strange. I’m not sure I’d like that, eating only vegetables.”</p><p>“I’m sure they can eat things other than vegetables, right dear?” asked Kuzon’s mother.</p><p>“Oh, yeah! We can eat pretty much anything unless it’s meat.”</p><p>“Hm. What if you only had meat? Would you be allowed to eat it then?”</p><p>“It’s not forbidden, or anything, it’s just part of what we believe,” Aang said, pushing the food around his plate.</p><p>Hare ate another bite of horned pig. “Well, what if you were starving, and there was only meat - would you eat it then?” he asked through a mouthful.</p><p>Aang blinked. “I don’t know. I’ve never really had an issue with not having enough not-meat things to eat. We have a garden that a lot of our food comes from.”</p><p>“But if you didn’t have anything but,” he pushed his plate slightly forward, “horned pig, would you eat it? Or would you starve? Would you eat it?”</p><p>Aang shrugged. “I don’t think so. I hope I’m never in that situation, is all, I guess.”</p><p>Kuzon’s father grunted, and returned to eating silently, apparently unsatisfied with that answer. Kuzon picked up a steamed water walnut with his chopsticks, smelled it loudly, and gagged. His mother shot him another glare before turning back to Aang.</p><p>“You have a garden? That’s very nice. I have a garden I tend to, as well.”</p><p>Aang nodded. “And an orchard,” he said proudly.</p><p>“That’s very nice.”</p><p>The conversation dissolved after that. Aang dutifully ate another bite of the steamed water walnuts. He glanced mournfully at the plate of bean sprouts, but they had been rendered in the same pot as the horned pig. Next to him, Kuzon burped loudly.</p><p>“Kuzon!”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>A loud scrape sounded as Kuzon pushed his chair out from the table and stood, grabbing Aang’s hand and pulling him away from the table as well.</p><p>“We’re gonna go play!” Kuzon said, already halfway to the door.</p><p>“Thank you for dinner!” Aang called as he was dragged away. “It was nice to meet you!”</p><p>“Nice to meet you too, Lang.”</p><p>Kuzon rolled his eyes as he pushed Aang out the door. “Aang, Dad! It’s Aang, not Lang!”</p><p>The door slammed behind them, leaving Kuzon’s parents sitting with two extra plates and chairs not pushed in.</p><p>“Nice boy,” Kuzon’s mother hummed. “Shame that he’s sick.”</p><p>Kuzon’s father looked at her quizzically. “Sick?” he said through a mouthful of food.</p><p>“He’s bald,” she whispered, like a terrible secret.</p><p>“He is?”</p><p>“You didn’t notice?”</p><p>“No, I did. I thought they were all bald, those types?”</p><p>“From the Air Nation?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“… Who’s their king, again?”</p>
<hr/><p>Aang dropped them on the roof of the hostel, tumbling a little with the added weight. Kuzon curled protectively around the bag until his momentum stopped. He laid still for a moment before lifting his head up to look at Aang, grinning wildly.</p><p>“Mission accomplished. Target acquired.”</p><p>Aang laughed, and they sat cross-legged on the roof with the bag between them. “Behold,” Kuzon whispered reverently, “the best egg custards in the city, from the crotchetiest old man in the whole world.”</p><p>“I can’t believe he throws these away <em>every day</em>.”</p><p>“I can’t believe he gets mad when people dig through his garbage.”</p><p>“I can’t believe how <em>amazing </em>these egg custards are,” said Aang through a huge mouthful.</p><p>“I can’t believe you could fly us out of there before he caught up. I can’t believe you can fly!”</p><p>Aang grinned. Being able to fly was fun, but it was easy to take advantage of when everyone you knew could fly. Taking people flying who’d never flown before? That was the most fun.</p><p>“You’ve really never met an airbender before?”</p><p>Kuzon shook his head. “Never. We’ve seen the bison, sometimes, but I’ve never met one before you.”</p><p>Aang shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ve never been to the Fire Nation before now, either.”</p><p>“Really?” Kuzon’s eyes were wide in surprise. “It’s the best nation in the world.”</p><p>Aang laughed lightly. “It’s beautiful, and Monk Gyatso told me that the dragons would be migrating soon. We were hoping to see it.”</p><p>“I wish I could see the Air Nation.”</p><p>Aang blinked. “We’re not a nation. We’re nomads.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“Well, there’s the air temples, and that’s where I live and where everyone learns airbending, but most airbenders are like wanderers.”</p><p>Kuzon’s brows furrowed. “You’re homeless?”</p><p>“No, airbenders just travel everywhere and meet people and have fun!”</p><p>Kuzon grunted. “That sounds better than going into the military. My whole family was in the military and they want me to go be a soldier when I’m older. But it’s <em>boring. </em>It’s like school, like all you do is learn stuff and take orders and protect the country,” he huffed.</p><p>Aang looked at him earnestly (as much so as he could with egg custard on his face). “That’s very noble, to learn things and protect people. That’s what Monk Gyatso says.”</p><p>Kuzon’s face crinkled. “Blegh,” he said.</p><p>Aang didn’t push.</p><p>“The dragons migrate along the Kuroi Mizu river. I’ve never seen it before, but that’s what my teacher said. He’s super boring, but he’s usually right.”</p><p>“Awesome! Monk Gyatso saw them once, but he said it was years ago.”</p><p>“Is Monk Gyatso your dad?”</p><p>Aang shook his head. “No, he’s my guardian.”</p><p>Kuzon frowned. “Like a bodyguard?”</p><p>“No, like, he’s in charge of teaching me and taking care of me until I’m an adult. All the monks are guides and teachers for us, but they’ll all have one or two kids who they’re the guardian of. Monk Gyatso’s mine.”</p><p>Kuzon looked at him blankly. “Like a teacher that never stops being boring.”</p><p>“No. Guardian. Gyatso’s not boring, he’s fun!”</p><p>Kuzon scowled. “Teachers aren’t fun. They’re boring and mean, and they whack your hands with rulers when you do something wrong.” He demonstrated by whacking the burlap bag with his hand.</p><p>Aang pulled the bag away and held it to his chest. “They hit you?”</p><p>“No, whack. It’s different.”</p><p>“Not really?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Well… Monk Gyatso and the other teachers would never hurt any of us. And they’re not boring, either! Well, Monk Tsering is a bit serious, but the others aren’t. Like when we were all going to the Eastern Temple to get our own bison, Monk Gyatso invented a game where we would throw people out of the saddles and see the shapes of the holes they made in the clouds! It was really fun.”</p><p>Kuzon looked horrified. “You throw people off bison? In the air? Why?”</p><p>Aang cocked his head. “They always come back up.”</p><p>“Oh,” Kuzon sighed, relieved. They ate in silence for a moment. “How do you win?”</p><p>“Win what?”</p><p>“The bison-tossing game?”</p><p>Aang lit up. “That’s a great name for it!”</p><p>“Thanks!” Kuzon grinned.</p><p>“You don’t really win. Like, I remember Jinjiu went feet-first and it made a perfect hole in the cloud and it was really funny because everyone had been doing really dramatic poses, and someone had gone and flown through while sitting in a meditative position, but Jinjiu’s turn had been <em>so funny </em>because nobody else had done it like that. And that was the cleanest Jinjiu’s been in a while, because he doesn’t believe in taking baths.”</p><p>Kuzon fake gagged. “Why not?”</p><p>“He has his reasons,” Aang said cryptically.</p><p>Kuzon hummed. “Your teachers sound nice.”</p><p>Aang’s face split into a giant grin. “You wanna meet them?”</p><p>“Now?”</p><p>“Well, yeah - we were supposed to meet in the square by sundown, and it’s almost sundown, so I’ll bring you there and you can meet them! Then you can say you’ve met a whole bunch of airbenders!”</p><p>“Okay,” Kuzon agreed. He began stuffing the excess egg custards in his sleeves. “Grab some, we can’t take the whole bag.”</p><p>“What do we do with the extras?”</p><p>“There’s a bunch of cats who live in that alley who will eat them.”</p><p>“Great!” Aang stood and flicked open his glider. “Let’s go!”</p><p>Kuzon climbed on the back, and only shrieked a little bit when Aang took off. It wasn’t long before he was laughing, just like any airbender.</p>
<hr/><p>It was not Monk Gyatso waiting for them, but the large, dark figure of Monk Sernya. When Aang landed in the square, he saw Sernya breathe a sigh of relief that sent ripples through the fountain in the square.</p><p>“Aang. We were beginning to worry.”</p><p>Aang squinted into the still-light sky – barely dusk.</p><p>“I’m not late,” he said, though it sounded more like a question. He gestured behind him towards Kuzon, who had been shuffling awkwardly behind Aang. “This is my new friend Kuzon! I had dinner at his house. Kuzon, this is Monk Sernya.”</p><p>Kuzon bowed with his right fist at the base of his left palm, unlike the traditional airbender bow, where the right hand grasped the left.</p><p>“It is an honor to meet you.”</p><p>Monk Sernya bowed back hastily. “Likewise, young one. However, Aang,” he said as he stood. “There has been a change of plans. I will be accompanying Jinpa and Samdup to the Western Temple, while you and Monk Gyatso return south.”</p><p>Aang’s face fell. “Why? I wanted to see more of the Fire Nation, and I haven’t been to the Western Temple in <em>so long</em>,” he groaned.</p><p>Sernya shook his head. “It has already been decided.” He glanced at Kuzon, who watched the interaction embarrassedly.</p><p>“Monk Gyatso will explain why we are changing our plans. We will be leaving tomorrow morning – make sure Appa gets rest. You will be flying nonstop.”</p><p>Aang pouted for a moment.</p><p>“Is Appa your bison?” Kuzon asked. Aang perked up immediately.</p><p>“Yeah! Do you want to meet him?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Kuzon said at the exact moment Monk Sernya spoke. “No, Aang. We cannot have any visitors to our camp.”</p><p>“Well, can I bring Appa here?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Aang huffed. Then looked at Sernya quizzically. “Wait, is Duga going with you guys or with us?”</p><p>Sernya’s lips thinned. “We will explain later.”</p><p>Aang threw his head back and groaned. Sernya turned to Kuzon. “It was pleasant to meet you. We thank you for showing Aang your hospitality, but we must be going now.”</p><p>“<em>Now?</em>”</p><p>“Yes, Aang.”</p><p>Aang pouted, then turned and threw his arms around Kuzon’s shoulders. “I had fun, today! I’ll see you in the fall, I promise. That’s our travel season.”</p><p>“<em>Aang</em>.”</p><p>“I had fun, too,” said Kuzon. “Bye, Aang.”</p><p>“Bye, Kuzon.”</p><p>Kuzon watched as in tandem, they flicked open their gliders and took off. He lifted a hand and waved.  </p>
<hr/><p>Monk Gyatso was waiting on the cliff’s edge when Aang and Sernya touched down. The deep lines in his face smoothed out a bit when he approached. Aang didn’t notice, nor did he notice the protective arm that crept around his shoulders as Gyatso led him away from the camp, towards the bison.</p><p>Sernya had explained to him what Aang had been doing when they met up, which was pretty much what he had done in almost every town he’d ever visited, and he hadn’t even been a little bit late to the meet-up point, but everyone was acting quiet and unhappy like when he was in trouble. And he hardly ever got in trouble (well, real trouble).</p><p>“Did I do something?” he asked Gyatso once they were out of earshot from the others.</p><p>Gyatso shook his head, but his face was devoid of the lighthearted peace it usually held. He seemed weighed down, almost.</p><p>“No, my boy. We are returning home tomorrow because it is unsafe for us to travel in so small a group.” He sighed. “Duga and Samdup were robbed in the town today.”</p><p>Aang’s eyes grew wide. “Robbed? For what?”</p><p>“Money, presumably, though they had very little. The thieves were violent, and so Samdup is injured.” He paused. “Duga has passed on to the next life.”</p><p>Aang’s face crumpled. “He died?” he asked in a very small voice.</p><p>Gyatso nodded. “Yes. So we have decided this trip is unsafe, and to return you home instead of continuing our journey through the Fire Nation. It will be safer once it is travel season, and we can move in large groups.”</p><p>“Oh,” breathed Aang, eyes glistening. He didn’t know Monk Duga well, but he had been a loud, boisterous man – fun to travel with, and full of stories.</p><p>“My boy, I am thankful you found a friend in your travels. And I am sorry to cut your time with him short.” Gyatso ran his hand across Appa’s broad forehead.  “Air circumvents – it will yield a direct path in the face of an obstacle. But we do not say that the air is a coward, and that it should learn to cut through mountains and walls. Air, no matter the path it takes, will always arrive at its destination sound, and bettered for its journey.”</p><p>He turned to Aang. “It is important that you learn when to rise above the obstacles, and when to navigate through them. We must now rise above our obstacle.”</p><p>Aang digested the information for a moment. He rifled through his pockets for a moment before pulling out one of the egg custards and offered it to Gyatso silently. He brought another one out and placed it gently on a rock outcropping. He took a third for himself.</p><p>Aang nodded towards the lone tart on the rock. “For Monk Duga.”</p><p>Gyatso gave a melancholy smile. It was a proper offering – Aang had seen very little death in his nine summers, which Gyatso was glad for. His childhood has been largely full of joy. But he took his studies seriously and honored his convictions. He would be a good man, one day. <em>A good Avatar</em>, his mind supplied, but he cut that thought off quickly. The elders already saw Aang as the Avatar first, and a child second. He didn’t need his guardian doing that.</p><p>Gyatso took a bite of the tart.</p><p>“Kuzon told me these were the best egg custards in the city.”</p><p>“They certainly live up to that title. It must have been difficult to acquire them.”</p><p>Aang shook his head as he ate. “Not really. These were thrown out.”</p><p>Gyatso coughed.</p>
<hr/><p>Airbenders were weird, Kuzon thought. Cool, but weird. They wore funny clothes, and didn’t eat meat, and could fly.</p><p>Aang was fun, though. Everyone was always telling Kuzon to be more serious, and no one at school laughed at his jokes like Aang had. It was getting dark as he made his way home. Aang and the monk had flown off towards the west, so he squinted at the cliffside but saw no lights from campfires.</p><p>Fall, Aang had said. Kuzon grinned. This fall.</p>
<hr/><p>Gyatso knew they weren’t expected back yet, hardly a week after they left.</p><p>Aang’s friends were delighted to see him, and so Gyatso sent him off to play, telling him he had no lessons for the day.</p><p>Elder Dawa caught his eye and nodded towards the halls. Gyatso spared one last look, but Aang had already disappeared with the other children down towards the airball court in a swirl of wind and chatter. The other elders were already waiting, seated. Gyatso’s own seat was empty as he stood before the others.</p><p>“Why have you returned early?” Monk Dawa asked without preamble.</p><p>Gyatso spoke. When he finished his story, the elders were silent. It was not a contemplative silence, but a stunned one – everyone knowing that something must be done but not knowing what.</p><p>Monk Dawa was the first to break it.</p><p>“This is… troubling. We have been seeing signs from the Fire Nation for some time.  But this level of escalation is concerning.”</p><p>“The nuns from the west have reported similar aggression against travelers in the Fire Nation,” offered Monk Yonten.</p><p>“How can we be certain this was <em>not </em>just a simple robbery?” argued Monk Tsering.</p><p>“I believe Monk Samdup’s testimony,” Gyatso said lightly. “He made it clear that they were not after money – after all, it is not as though our people are known for leading wealthy and auspicious lives.”</p><p>Monk Tsering conceded the point with a nod.</p><p>“What does this mean for us, then? And what can we do?” asked Monk Yonten.</p><p>“I believe all travel in the Fire Nation should be in large groups. We cannot allow anyone to go off alone when there is danger there.”</p><p>“And how are we supposed to mandate this? Nomads do as they please,” said Monk Tsering.</p><p>“That doesn’t mean that we should not at least advise against-“</p><p>“A few instances should not allow us to sacrifice our freedoms-“</p><p>“More than a few-“</p><p>“Monk Duga is -“</p><p>“Enough.” Elder Dawa spoke with quiet finality. He turned to Monk Tsering. “We cannot ignore danger simply because we fear it.” Monk Tsering looked offended but clenched his jaw and did not speak.</p><p>Dawa turned to Gyatso. “You mentioned that Pupil Aang had a pleasant experience. We cannot discount the fact that these instances are not uniform.”</p><p>He paused. “However, it is wise to exercise caution. Children traveling in the Fire Nation ought to be accompanied – we cannot allow them to go out unsupervised in light of these incidents. All others will be warned to be cautious but may choose their own path. Thank you.”</p><p>It was a clear dismissal.</p>
<hr/><p>They’d been told to stick with each other, and to stick with the chaperones while in the Fire Nation. Aang thought it was silly since he’d been there already and had traveled a bunch of other places all by himself. He wanted to see the Fire Nation, not wander around the market for a few minutes surrounded by adults who would drag him back if he even tried to go do something on his own.</p><p>Aang didn’t get it – the Fire Nation was great, and everyone he’d met so far had been really nice! And the chaperones said no wandering off, but Aang had <em>promised </em>Kuzon he’d come back in the fall. Aang didn’t break promises.</p><p>So, he’d get in a little trouble later for sneaking away. He’d made his peace with that. He promised to visit Kuzon but had not promised to stick with the group. It was an easy choice, he thought, as he found the side street where Kuzon’s house was. He knocked on the door. Nothing. Knocked again. Nothing. The windows were shuttered.</p><p>Aang glanced up and down the narrow street, as if Kuzon was standing down the road watching him try to get in, but there was no one. He could still hear the bustle of the marketplace in the distance, and it was only an hour or two past noon. He sighed dramatically but sat on the steps up to Kuzon’s house and resigned himself to waiting. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d given Kuzon anything more specific than <em>fall</em>. He couldn’t be mad no one was home.</p><p>While he waited, only a few people walked down the street. All of them gave Aang weird looks – a strange mix of bewildered, suspicious, and angry. He supposed he made a strange sight, an airbender in the middle of the Fire Nation, staking out someone’s home.</p><p>It didn’t come to a head until about an hour after he sat down, but eventually an older man came up to him (wearing an expression from the Angry category of Looks Aang Has Been Getting).</p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I’m waiting for my friend,” Aang said, too bright in comparison to the man’s coarse tone.</p><p>“Uh-huh, so you can rob every house on the block? Stealing from hard-working people like me!”</p><p>Aang blinked. “No, I don’t think you understand,” he floated lightly to his feet. The man jumped back a foot and a half, but his glower never wavered. Aang jabbed a thumb back at Kuzon’s house. “My friend lives here! I’m visiting him.”</p><p>The man huffed. “You should count yourself lucky I haven’t cracked your bald head yet.” He pointed a gnarled finger right in Aang’s face. “You best get on out of here before I change my mind.”</p><p>Aang opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, he was tackled from the side and fell to the ground with an <em>oomph</em>.</p><p>“Aang!” Kuzon shouted. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Trying to steal!” the old man crowed.</p><p>“It’s travel season! I told you I’d come see you!” Aang said, strained from Kuzon’s knee pressing on his chest. Before he could say anything else, Kuzon was scrambling to his feet, and hauled Aang up by the hand.</p><p>“I have so much I want to show you. Let’s go!” Kuzon said, pulling on Aang’s sleeve.</p><p>“Hold on - I have something,” Aang said, digging in his bag. “Aha!”</p><p>He pulled out a small jar of candied pineapple hibiscus, sealed with blue wax.</p><p>“Who’d you take that from?” the old man demanded.</p><p>“Is that pineapple hibiscus? Where’d you get this?” Kuzon asked, grinning wildly.</p><p>“I got it in Omashu – I met a crazy earthbender!”</p><p>Kuzon was still grinning like a madman. “I want to show you this new firebending trick I learned – but I also want you to meet my friends from school, because they didn’t believe me when I told them I’d met an airbender.”</p><p>“Thieves! The lot of them.”</p><p>“Well, let’s go! I can fly you over to them – they’ll have to believe you then,” Aang said, flicking open his glider.</p><p>Kuzon threw back his head and laughed. “They’re going to be so jealous!” He shook the wax-sealed jar. “Let me just put this inside – I gotta hide it cause my dad eats all my snacks unless I hide them.”</p><p>Aang held out the bag again. “I can just carry it for you.”</p><p>“He’s going to take it for himself!”</p><p>“Thanks!” said Kuzon. “Alright let’s go!” he said, pumping a fist in the air. He climbed on the back of the glider, and the two took off in a swirling cloud of dust.</p><p> “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The old man glared up at the sky before dusting himself off and continuing on his way.</p>
<hr/><p>The schoolchildren, still in their uniforms, were gawking openly. Kuzon stood, chest puffed out with all the self-righteous pride of someone who just proved a lot of people wrong in a very dramatic way. Aang was showing off the marble trick.</p><p>“Fly again!”</p><p>“Make a tornado!”</p><p>“Can you make me fly?”</p><p>Aang frowned, putting away the marbles. That trick never awed like it was supposed to.</p><p>Kuzon stepped in between his classmates, who were inching closer, and Aang who was grinning sheepishly, unused to the attention. “Now, now,” Kuzon said loftily. “Airbenders have better things to do than make tornadoes or make others fly.”</p><p>“I can make a tornado,” Aang chirped.</p><p>Kuzon frowned, looking at Aang out of the side of his eye before acquiescing with a nod. His classmates pressed forward, chattering excitedly. Aang took his airbending stance, and with a practiced motion, crafted a tornado in the schoolyard. It was tiny, of course, he wouldn’t make a life-size tornado (it was really hard, and the last time he’d done it the elders had given him a very stern lecture about how it’s only fun if everyone is having fun and how to size tornadoes responsibly).</p><p>It barely reached everyone’s knees, but Kuzon’s classmates still pointed and squealed and laughed. Aang kept it going, sending it winding between their feet. One boy’s belt was ripped off by the wind, and began to twirl in the tornado, which began a new game called throw-things-in-a-tornado.</p><p>It was fun, for a bit! Aang had definitely laughed when one of the girls threw her homework scrolls in the tornado, cackling delightedly as they ripped apart. But there were only a few things that actually worked, and they got old fast.</p><p>A few of the students walked away together. Kuzon wrung his hands for a moment before gasping. He shook Aang’s shoulder.</p><p>“I have a great idea,” he said. “Fire tornado.”</p><p>Aang brought the little tornado back towards their feet.</p><p>“Fire tornado?”</p><p>Kuzon nodded, grinning. “I bend fire into the tornado, then it makes a fire tornado!”</p><p>Aang pushed the tornado further back, away from flammable clothes and burnable ankles, then nodded at Kuzon. The remaining students shuffled backwards but looked on interestedly.</p><p>Kuzon bended.</p><p>It did not go well. If the monks had seen it, Aang would have <em>absolutely</em> earned a lecture about bending other elements. To be fair, he hadn’t interacted with fire that often when bending, and it’s not like Kuzon had ever tried to light air on fire before.</p><p>And compared to the damage Aang’s full-size tornado had done to the temple walls, this explosion was nothing. And he didn’t do anything wrong, really, it was just a mistake – one he’d never make again! And so he did <em>not </em>run away because he did something wrong.</p><p>He ran away because all the other students scattered, and Kuzon was poking him insistently in the side to <em>get out of here, let’s go!</em> Majority rule.</p>
<hr/><p>He set them down on a roof. Aang suspected that Kuzon asked to go on roofs when Aang was around mostly because they were really hard to climb onto without airbending (Aang wondered how anybody got anywhere without airbending.)</p><p>“That’s still <em>so cool,</em>” Kuzon said as Aang closed his glider.</p><p>“Thanks!”</p><p>“You guys are so strange. People can’t fly, but you guys can, and it’s <em>weird</em>.”</p><p>Aang frowned slightly. “It’s not weird, it’s airbending. We just bend the currents through the glider.”</p><p>“Do they teach you that in school? Our school doesn’t teach bending.”</p><p>“Well,” Aang said, “we don’t have school-school. We have lessons for a lot of different stuff, like bending and philosophy, but we also get taught about how to travel and how to paint and weave. And sometimes we’re taught stuff not in classes, like gardening. But we don’t really do the whole school set-up like you guys do.”</p><p>Kuzon stared at him. “What about your history?”</p><p>“Oh, we learn history. We actually just finished learning about the life of Avatar Yangchen – she was the last Air Nomad Avatar.”</p><p>“We learn about Fire Nation history, but also about the other nations. I just had to write a whole essay comparing our honor code with the laws of the Earth Kingdom – they’re crazy over there.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“They don’t have an honor code <em>at all</em>.”</p><p>Aang shrugged. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t honorable. We don’t have an honor code, either, really.”</p><p>Kuzon shook his head. “That’s so weird.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“How can you<em> not </em>have an honor code?” Kuzon asked, throwing his hands up. “Then people will act however they want, and no one can even say anything about it!”</p><p>Aang looked at him incredulously. “No? If someone’s doing something wrong, then they’re made to stop. Like, for the kids, if we do something wrong then we have to do the chores of the person who was hurt by our actions. One time, I accidentally knocked one of the older boys out of the air and he hit his head – he was okay, but I had to clean out the stables for two weeks.” Aang shuddered.</p><p>“Well that’s just punishment. What about when two people have a big fight? They’d have to settle that as a matter of honor. An Agni Kai.”</p><p>“I guess. We just let people work out their problems on their own.”</p><p>Kuzon huffed. “That’s silly.”</p><p>“Well, what else is there to do? If they need a mediator or something, someone will help them.”</p><p>“He’ll decide who’s right?”</p><p>“No, he helps them come to an agreement.”</p><p>“I don’t understand. How does that restore honor?”</p><p>“I don’t think I get what you mean.”</p><p>“I don’t get what <em>you </em>mean,” Kuzon said hotly, face red.</p><p>Aang shrugged, undisturbed. “That’s okay. We can just be different.”</p><p>Kuzon blinked. “Okay.”</p><p>The strange charged energy dissipated immediately. Kuzon supposed that was just an Air Nomad thing – if he’d gotten into an argument like that with anyone at school, they’d just keep going until they were both red in the face and out of breath and maybe fighting, <em>really </em>fighting. Did Aang even realize they’d had an argument?</p><p>“How long are you staying this time?” he asked, because Air Nomads are strange, and don’t fight even when they can or should. He doesn’t know why they do it, but if Kuzon had to guess, knowing Aang, he’d say it was because they simply have better, more fun things to do than argue.</p><p>Aang smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “We’re staying in the area for about four days, but I kind of… er… snuck away from the group. They’ll be mad. I might not be able to sneak away again.”</p><p>“Why’d you sneak away?”</p><p>“We’re supposed to stay in a big group,” Aang said.</p><p>Kuzon frowned. “You didn’t do that last year.”</p><p>“Last year I wasn’t traveling <em>officially</em>. I just tagged along with Gyatso and a few of the other monks who were going to the Western Temple. We have a <em>lot </em>more people this time, and I think they’re afraid of kids getting lost.”</p><p>Kuzon grinned shyly. “Well, the night after tomorrow, we’re having the Hikari Ongaku Festival and I think you would really like it. Can you come?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Aang said. “I love festivals! We just had the Moon Peach Blossom Festival – what’s the Hikaron Goku Festival about?”</p><p>Kuzon rolled his eyes. “<em>Hikari Ongaku, </em>Aang. It’s really fun! There’s singing and music and dancing, and there’s plays about the Fire Nation you can go see, and they have this thing where they give you a nut roll, but they dip it in liquid sugar and it makes it like glass. It’s the best,” he declared. “Can you come?”</p><p>Aang nodded decisively. “I’ll be there.”</p><p>“What if you can’t sneak away again?”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have to – I’ll tell Monk Gyatso I was with you, and he knows you’re my friend, and he’ll for sure let us come. Probably a lot of us will!”</p><p>Kuzon stood up, pumping his fist in the air. “Yeah!” he shouted, before losing his balance. Flailing his arms wildly, he nearly fell off the roof where they were sitting, but Aang grabbed the back of his pant leg and pulled him back down into a sitting position. Kuzon rubbed the back of his neck, ears red.</p><p>“Er… I’m glad you can make it.”</p><p>Aang just smiled, made no fun of his near-tumble, and said, “Me too!”</p><p>Airbenders. Weird.</p>
<hr/><p>The lights of the festival made it seems less like nearing midnight, and closer to dusk. And so many people! The music that floated down the street was high and lively, and a few of the people walking by were singing loudly. They were stumbling and holding onto each other. Aang thought they might be drunk, but he was really bad at telling when people were drunk.</p><p>He held the little glass bottle in his hands – the drink was interesting (he’d never tasted juice that was so… spicy).</p><p>“Are you gonna drink that?” Kuzon asked, still holding his empty bottle. Aang shook his head and handed it over. Kuzon made a show of drinking it hands-free, throwing his head back and holding the bottle between his teeth. Aang clapped politely.</p><p>Kuzon laughed, then coughed, then lost his hold on the bottle. It dropped to their feet, where they were sitting on the low wall – Kuzon, face dripping, coughed roughly. Aang thumped his back. Kuzon, still coughing, threw him a thumbs-up and Aang bent a gust of air in his face, drying it and pulling his hair out of its knot. It framed Kuzon’s face like a cloud.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>“Yup, yeah,” Kuzon coughed. “Ugh. That was not worth it.”</p><p>“It was a neat trick,” Aang offered kindly.</p><p>“Eh. Oh, the play is starting!” The wall they were sitting on was a bit far from the stage, but Kuzon had assured him it was the best spot to watch from, and they didn’t even have to buy a ticket. The curtain opened to an empty stage, with nothing but the scenery. Then, a man in Earth Kingdom regalia walked onstage – he was short and bald and spoke in a squeaky voice. The narrator spoke from an unseen place, telling of the little Earth Kingdom town, and the tyrant king who ruled it. Aang watched with waning interest – from their vantage point, it was hard to see very well, and the music from other areas conflicted with the dialogue of the play. Besides, a lot of the plays Kuzon had told him about had the <em>exact same plot</em>. They could do with a little variety.</p><p>Huh.</p><p>“Kuzon,” Aang whispered.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Want to make the play more interesting?”</p>
<hr/><p>Kuzon readjusted the fake mustache. He could (would) get in a ton of trouble for this. He <em>never </em>did big stuff like this, but the way Aang proposed things, making them seem reasonable and fun and harmlessly mischievous let him think that getting in trouble every so often was fine.</p><p>He spied Aang from across the stage, his arms circling the little bundles of hastily prepared costumes. The play was nearing the climax, the Earth Kingdom tyrant throwing paper mache boulders at the plucky Fire Nation soldier who faced him down. She started her monologue on the “new era of glory” and Kuzon made eye contact with Aang and nodded. Simultaneously they charged on stage – the players stared at them bewilderedly, the soldier actress still valiantly trying to deliver her lines. Kuzon bulled over her, projecting past the back row, to the vacant wall where they’d sat before.</p><p>“Welcome ladies and gentlemen! We have gathered here today to join Private Manao and King Diren in marriage!”</p><p>Confused mutterings started in the crowd, but a few ripples of laughter floated up as Aang flitted between the two actors, pulling them closer to one another and wrapping them in a red cloth, dropping crowns of weedflowers on their heads.</p><p>“The joining of these two in marriage unites, now and forever, these troubled lands. Though their relationship started off a little <em>rocky,” </em>he said pointedly, waggling his eyebrows at the King actor, drawing an earnest laugh from the audience, “it is my joy and pleasure that we witness their marriage, their unending devotion to one another!” Aang had floated to the thin rafters suspending the slapdash stage and was raining flower petals down.</p><p>“Now, Private Manao is quite fiery when she wants to be,” Kuzon started, drawling and affected, “but that’s nothing that- ow,” he stopped as a marble dropped on his head. He looked up and saw Aang pointing into the crowd, where two guards were walking up to the stage.</p><p>“Oh, shit - I mean, you may now kiss and seal the deal!” he said as the two guards climbed onto the stage and rushed towards him. Before he could turn and run, a hand grabbed his collar and <em>yanked</em>. He let out a little choked sound, but before he could react, Aang had pulled him up into the rafters which groaned with the weight of two people. It was rickety, meant for traveling and easily disassembled. Aang flicked open his glider and Kuzon yelped as one of the guards shot a burst of flame into the barebones ceiling. He climbed on, and Aang laughed lightly as they flew away. He flew out over the crowd and dropped a few of the extra flowers – some of the guests caught them, and there was a weird mix of boos and cheers in their wake.</p><p>Aang dropped them on the other end of the street, closer to where the music played, and laughed.</p><p>“That was fun! I just wish you had gotten to finish your speech,” he said.</p><p>“I was making it up as I went. I don’t think it was very funny,” Kuzon shrugged.</p><p>“That doesn’t matter. We got to shake it up! Why are all your plays like that?”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“They all have the same story,” Aang said.</p><p>“Oh. I guess people really like that kind of story. But not all our plays are like that – <em>Love Amongst the Dragons </em>is really good, but I only got to see it once, when we were in the capital.”</p><p>Aang collapsed his glider. “What’s that one about?”</p><p>The music shifted, and Kuzon’s face lit up. “I love this song! Come on,” he said, tugging Aang’s hand. “I want to show you the Camelephant Strut!”</p><p>“The what?”</p>
<hr/><p>He’d had to part with Kuzon in the early morning, just after dawn. They were leaving town, and headed north – they’d be traveling all day, so he could sleep on Appa, who would follow the pack.</p><p>They parted and promised to meet again next year – they’d both be twelve by then, and Aang had promised to bring cinnamon tea. After the dancing had wound down, they’d sat with a couple teens who were very giggly and a bit floppy, who’d taught them what the <em>older kids </em>considered cool.</p><p>In retrospect, flamey-o and hotman were very Fire Nation-ish slang words – but he and Kuzon hadn’t stopped using them since they heard them. The older kids had laughed a lot when they said it. They were fun enough, but then they fell asleep, and so he and Kuzon had set off on their own again, to the shopping stalls.</p><p>Kuzon had tried to give Aang a ceramic dragon he’d bought, and Aang didn’t think he quite understood that it was too permanent and Aang couldn’t take it. Permanent things were not meant to be held onto, and people who weren’t Air Nomads generally got offended when their presents were given away. Kuzon had shook his head and called airbenders weird again but seemed fine with it in the end.</p><p>He did that a lot, Aang thought as he made his way back to camp. He didn’t quite get what airbenders did, and dismissed it as weird – he hadn’t thought much about it before, but after explaining the same sorts of things to Bumi, who took everything in stride unless he could make it better (which he almost always could), Aang had started noticing when Kuzon did that. But maybe that was just a Bumi thing – he was mad and a genius and probably the most fun person Aang had ever met, and nothing ever bothered him.</p><p>When he got back to camp, everyone was awake and eating breakfast – unlike the first day after he’d disappeared, when everyone had freaked out and gone searching for him, they were very casual about his absence. Aang supposed the need to stick in a group was more of a suggestion than a rule. Scanning the crowd, he spotted Gyatso, who was walking towards an empty space with a plate of balep and fruit, yawning widely as if he’d been up all night.</p><p>He made his way over and sat next to him. Gyatso nodded silently – he was always quiet when he was tired. Aang laid back on the dirt and closed his eyes for just a moment. He didn’t realize he was falling asleep until Gyatso spoke, drawing him back to wakefulness.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Are you going to eat?” Gyatso asked again.</p><p>Aang shook his head. “They had these nut rolls at the festival, and I had <em>six </em>of them. They were this big!” he said, holding out his hands.</p><p>“That’s more like a loaf than a roll,” Gyatso said. “It sounds like you had fun.”</p><p>“Yeah! We’re gonna do it again next year!”</p><p>Gyatso didn’t respond, yawning again.</p><p>“Why are you so tired?”</p><p>“I am an old man, Aang. It only takes one late night to make me tired.”</p><p>“I was gonna sleep on Appa.”</p><p>“That sounds like a very good idea.”</p>
<hr/><p>He did it on accident, the first time. Falling, close to the ground, and he made a ball instead of a dome to soften his landing, which sent him flying (and not in the fun way). He hit the wall with an <em>umph</em>, and when he opened his eyes Tashi and Pelbu were standing worriedly over him. Something wet dripped in Aang’s eye, but he just laughed (and in retrospect, it was blood and that he was laughing probably <em>really </em>freaked them out).</p><p>“Are you okay?” Tashi asked, panicked.</p><p>“Did you see that!” Aang shouted.</p><p>“Your head is bleeding,” Pelbu said.</p><p>Aang stood, forming a ball again – the same movement as a dome and a tornado, but small – something he could hold in his hands. He moved it towards the ground and tried to jump on it – missing by a few inches and doing an awkward half-jump over it. He stumbled and the ball disappeared.</p><p>Tashi grabbed him by the arm.</p><p>“I think you need your head looked at.”</p><p>“That was so cool!”</p><p>“Very cool,” Tashi agreed absently. “Now let’s go.” Pelbu grabbed Aang’s other arm.</p><p>“I’m gonna do that again,” Aang declared.</p><p>“Maybe you shouldn’t.”</p><p>“I’m going to. Where are we going?”</p><p>Tashi and Pelbu glanced at each other behind Aang’s head.</p><p>“… We’re gonna play airball,” Pelbu said.</p><p>“Cool!”</p>
<hr/><p>When Aang stopped having headaches, he went into the valley, with its soft, tall grasses and wildflowers to practice the air scooter. The high piles of grass and hay made for gentle landings, and he liked seeing the wild bison that grazed there.</p><p>It only took him about three days of working on it before he was ready to show the air scooter off. He tried it on the stone of the temple, then up a wall, then across the side of the bridge.</p><p>He showed Tashi and Pelbu first.</p><p>“You kinda have to balance like it’s a top!” Aang said, demonstrating by circling around them.</p><p>Pelbu laughed. “You did this again? You must’ve cracked your head harder than we thought.”</p><p>“It’s fun!” Aang said, dissolving the scooter and landing lightly on his feet.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Tashi said. “It seems dangerous.”</p><p>“I practiced in the valley so that I wouldn’t hit my head again.”</p><p>“I think you’re crazy for trying again when you nearly split your skull in half last time,” Pelbu teased.</p><p>“It’s a cool trick,” Tashi said.</p><p>“Thanks!” Aang said, crafting another air scooter. “I’m gonna go show Monk Gyatso!” he said, riding the scooter down the stairs and away from the two boys. Pelbu shook his head.</p><p>“Hopefully Gyatso will tell him to stop doing that before he kills himself.”</p><p>Tashi shrugged. “I think it’s kinda cool that he invented a new technique.”</p><p>“Eh.”</p>
<hr/><p>His arms were swollen. His legs were swollen. His <em>head </em>was swollen. Aang had known that the tattoos hurt, but his whole body felt like a big bruise. A big, sunburned, swollen bruise.</p><p>He’d ripped the mattress off his bed and laid facedown on the solid, cool slab. He was still fasting. Four days before he was tattooed, and four days after, with a small meal on the day of. Four for the nations, for the elements, for the seasons, for the directions of the wind. Four was a sacred number. Four had seemed very small, but it now seemed utterly massive. He drank a lot of water to fill his stomach, but that made him have to use the bathroom a lot, which meant moving and moving meant pain.</p><p>So Aang was understandably a bit cranky.</p><p>All the same, he couldn’t temper his excitement when he saw the blue of the tattoos.</p><p>It was an honor, a mark of his mastery. He was so proud, and thankful, and sunburned and swollen. His stomach grumbled and Aang drank another cup of water. The pain would pass, like everything passed, and when it did, he would be a true master. It was just something to endure, like the soreness in his limbs after a long day of training. The pain and the suffering would fade away, and he’d be left with the product of his labor. Skill, mastery, and honor.</p><p>He grinned into the stone of the mattress slab. Kuzon would <em>freak out</em> when he saw. He would freak out when Aang showed him the air scooter that earned him his tattoos. Then, Aang laughed. Bumi probably wouldn’t notice that anything had changed. He sighed, tired and sore and content. He’d mastered his craft. He’d earned his tattoos. The last major turn in his life was a few years ahead, deciding whether to be a nomad or to be a monk. Either way he’d be content. Aang knew desire could be deadly, and so he only desired simplicity. The major humps in his life were over; he desired simplicity, and he would live a simple life, and nothing could change that for him.</p>
<hr/><p>He sat next to Gyatso in the shrine, afternoon light filtering in between the hanging vines of the lattice ceiling, dappled over the mosaic flooring.  They had said their prayer to Pehar. The shrine had always thrummed with energy for Aang. The mural of the spirit Pehar, with his wide, serene face and his hands tying the mountains together seemed to stare into Aang – it felt alive. It now seemed even closer, louder, buzzing with energy like the air during a lightning storm.</p><p>Aang supposed it had to do with being the Avatar.</p><p>He was the Avatar. His head spun. He’d never thought it could be him. He’d never so much as felt an affinity towards the other elements beyond a healthy appreciation.</p><p>Gyatso broke him away from his thoughts. “How do you feel?”</p><p>Aang shrugged. “I don’t feel any different. I don’t feel like the Avatar.”</p><p>“And what would that feel like?”</p><p>He slumped forward, throwing up his hands. “I don’t know! Avatar-y!”</p><p>Gyatso laughed and Aang huffed. “When you sit here, what do you feel like?” he asked Gyatso, who was silent for a moment, his face thoughtful.</p><p>“I feel peaceful. This is a calm place.”</p><p>Aang frowned. “No. It’s not.”</p><p>Gyatso looked at him. “What do <em>you</em> feel like, here?”</p><p>“Like… like there’s something here. It feels <em>loud</em>, like… like a beehive.”</p><p>Gyatso quirked an eyebrow. “A beehive?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Aang said, staring Pehar in the eyes. “It just…” he trailed off, still staring at the mural. Pehar's mouth moved silently, no words forming.</p><p>“Aang?” Gyatso asked softly. Aang broke the stare, feeling like he’d just been woken from dozing off. When he looked back at the mural, Pehar was as still and silent as he always was.</p><p>“It just seems like there’s a lot going on in here,” he finished lamely.</p><p>Gyatso hummed.</p><p>“I suppose there is.”</p>
<hr/><p>Aang weeded the garden, placing the little springs of green in the basket next to him. Down the row, the boys were passing around a song. It was getting closer to him – and when it was a few boys down, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned and saw Monk Gopal standing over him.</p><p>“Aang, we wanted to drill you on a few forms, if you’d come with me. Dema here can take over your chores for today.”</p><p>Aang stood. “Sorry, Dema.” Dema glared at him.</p><p>He walked away from his chores, with the stares of the now-silent boys boring into his back</p><p>He trained through the whole of the afternoon, and he usually took Appa out on a ride a few hours before sunset, but he demonstrated, over and over, the same form for the monks who shook their heads and said it was not right. Aang knew it was silly – the forms high-level and ancient and flashy and useless. Gyatso found him, close to sundown, still going through the forms, the monks still telling him he was doing it wrong but not offering anything to help.</p><p>He grabbed Aang’s shoulder and steered him out of the room with stern words for the others. For a moment, Aang steeled himself for a lengthy conversation, a teaching moment about the duties of the Avatar, but Gyatso pushed him gently towards the stables and told him that Appa was missing the attention. He grinned and ran off. Gyatso shook his head - all children needed fun and freedom. Even the Avatar. </p>
<hr/><p>“No,” Gyatso said, holding up a hand to stop Aang from walking away with Monk Tsering. “As long as I am his guardian, I will decide when Aang trains, and when he gets his butt kicked at Pai Sho.”</p><p>Aang grinned at him and sat back down. Monk Tsering huffed and walked away. Gyatso smiled to himself. Tsering took himself too seriously. And what could that silly old man do? It was not as though <em>he </em>was Aang’s guardian.</p>
<hr/><p>Aang moved with grim determination. His hands shook as he laid the scroll down on his neatly made bed. The small bag of provisions bumped against his hip as he walked to the window. The air was heavy and charged in a way that spoke of rain. Thunder clapped in the distance.</p><p>Where would he go? He swallowed thickly. He could go south, and sled on the otter-penguins. Or he could go west and find Kuzon again. Or north to the Earth Kingdom. Or he could just flit around the world on Appa and be a nomad and a monk and <em>not </em>spend his whole life training and being told he had to give everything up. He scowled. It wasn’t even as if he wanted extravagance or riches or power. He just wanted his friends to not think there was something wrong with him, and to not be sent away to learn airbending because he was already a master, and it was clearly just a way to separate him and Gyatso, and Gyatso hadn’t even <em>fought for him</em>.</p><p>There was a soft knock at his door. Aang’s heart jumped into his throat. The door opened before he could act.</p><p>“Aang? I’m not going to let them take you away from me,” Gyatso said without preamble, walking into the room.</p><p>He watched as Gyatso took in the scene: the note on his bed, Aang fully dressed and standing at the window with his glider clutched tight, ready to leave. Gyatso’s eyes widened with the realization, and the look he shot Aang, so full of heartbreak, made his cheeks burn with shame.</p><p>“Aang?”</p><p>Aang’s shoulders sagged. Of course Gyatso wouldn’t let them send him away. For a moment, all he felt was relief. And then he dropped his glider with a clatter on the ground and rushed towards Gyatso, still standing in the doorway with his hand resting on the post. He wrapped his arms tight around his teacher’s waist and pressed his face into the warm woolen robes. He felt Gyatso settle one hand on his head and the other around his shoulders.</p><p>“You’re not alone. Even if I have to spirit you away myself, you are <em>not </em>alone in this,” he said fiercely.</p><p>“Everything’s different now,” Aang mumbled into Gyatso’s robes. “Everyone treats me different.”</p><p>“That is true. People will treat you differently from others because you are.”</p><p>Aang pulled back slightly, hands still knotted in Gyatso’s robes. “But I’m not! I’m the same as I always was!”</p><p>Gyatso rested his hand lightly on Aang’s head, trailing the still-new tattoos. “And you have always been different. You didn’t know. The others didn’t know. But you were. And now that it is known, they will adjust how they treat you. That is not to say that it is fair or right, but it is so and we cannot change it. We cannot make anyone think what we want or act how we wish. We can only control ourselves.”</p><p>Aang leaned heavily against him. “I wish it wasn’t me.”</p><p>“I know.” Gyatso took him by the shoulder and sat him on the bed, settling next to him. He reached over and picked up the scroll, still sitting innocuously, wrapped in its string. He held it in the palm of his hand.</p><p>“May I?” he asked lightly.</p><p>It was addressed to him. Gyatso had every right to read it and be angry and know all about Aang’s selfish plan. But Aang just shook his head, and Gyatso set the scroll back down. Aang, who had been ready to leave and never come back just a minute earlier, leaned against his side and decided then and there that he’d never love anyone quite the way he loved Gyatso. No one, he decided, would ever teach him more or know him better, and that was just a fact of life.</p><p>“We will discuss your future with the elders tomorrow. I will not let them send you away. And if they will not see reason, then we can always fall back on your original plan,” Gyatso said, eyes sparkling.</p><p>Aang looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? We’d…” Leave? Run away?</p><p>“You belong to the whole world. You are a peacemaker, a spiritual guide, and a leader to the four nations. And you are entitled to sixteen years before you shoulder that duty. I intend to make sure you get them all,” Gyatso said, squeezing his shoulder.</p><p>Aang smiled at him, watery and thin, but genuine. Then furrowed his brows. “You said that you guys told me because there have been signs that we’re headed towards war. What signs?”</p><p>Gyatso sighed, sending dust bunnies skittering in the corner of the room. “For many years, since before you were born, the Fire Nation has been… ambitious. Seizing land held by the Earth Kingdom. In recent years, they have gotten quite aggressive. Large swathes of land that once belonged to the Earth Kingdom are no longer theirs.”</p><p>“That’s not right,” Aang said.</p><p>“It is not. But we believed it was a dispute between their two nations. It would not have been reason to break centuries-old tradition and tell you your destiny before you were ready. However, our sister temples had troubling news for us.” He paused. “Many worrisome instances influenced our thoughts. We decided to tell you now because the Fire Nation has banned airbenders from their soil.”</p><p>“Banned?” Aang echoed, eyes wide. “Why?”</p><p>“Any airbender found in the Fire Nation is now guilty of terrorism and will be… imprisoned.”</p><p>Aang kneeled on the bed, facing Gyatso. “That’s so messed up! What about the airbenders who live there? Or the nomads who pilgrimage through there to the Western Temple? Why would they do that?” he asked, voice growing louder with each question.</p><p>“This comes in the wake of many singular instances of aggression against our people by Fire Nation citizens,” Gyatso said, far calmer. “Prejudice, violence. Murder.” Aang flinched at his words.</p><p>“We cannot ignore these signs any longer. However, I do not agree that our solution should be to throw a child into the maw of war.”</p><p>“I can’t believe this,” Aang said softly. “What about Kuzon? And your friend Teruko?”</p><p>“The empty hand, extended in friendship, is a blessing. It shows us that peace and love come naturally, and that unbalance is a temporary state that can be fixed. But we cannot be blinded to unbalance – not when evil thrives when there is no one to witness it.”</p><p>Aang hung his head.</p><p>“My boy, do not despair. This shall end, as all things do.”</p><p>“Great,” Aang said bitingly. “Except <em>I’m </em>the one that has to end it.”</p><p>“You are. In the wake of what has happened, the world needs the Avatar. We need<em> you</em>. But as I said before, you are not alone. And I will not let them take you away.”</p><p>Aang knew in his heart that Gyatso did not have the final say – that if the elders stood their ground there would be nothing he could do, nothing he could say. They’d run away, he said, but would they really? Could they?</p><p>He leaned against Gyatso’s side and let himself believe it. A thin and tenuous belief, one he’d have to abandon by the morning. But not before then.</p>
<hr/><p>Monk Dawa stared down at him, jaw hard.</p><p>“We have already made our decision. We will not renege.” He softened, slightly, giving Gyatso a sympathetic look. “I understand you two are close – but we need what is best for the world. He must be sent away.”</p><p>Gyatso shook his head. “The Avatar is not told their identity until adulthood for a reason. You place this burden on him prematurely, and then show him only the negative consequences?” He frowned. “You will lose him.”</p><p>“In what manner?” Dawa asked suspiciously.</p><p>“Aang is a child, and he will act as a child – his spirit is ancient, but he is a boy.” Gyatso sighed. “To treat him as a tool is to destroy him.”</p><p>“We do no such thing. He must be prepared when this comes to a head.”</p><p>“You must understand that he does not view it in that manner – you send him, already marked as a master, to further master his craft away from his home? It is a punishment. For what?”</p><p>“It is no punishment. Aang must be ready.”</p><p>“He is a <em>boy</em>.”</p><p>Dawa scoffed. “You infantilize him.”</p><p>“You sharpen him like a weapon.”</p><p>“The Avatar is not a weapon.”</p><p>“I was not sure you knew that,” Gyatso said lightly.</p><p>“Enough.” He gave Gyatso an appraising look. “What do you know?”</p><p>Gyatso straightened his back. “He knows your plans – I did not tell him – but he will not passively accept this decision.”</p><p>“It is not up to him,” Dawa snapped. “Nor is it up to you.”</p><p>“I am well aware. But know that if you bend him too far, he will break.”</p><p>Dawa narrowed his eyes. “We cannot coddle him. But we cannot lose him.”</p><p>“You nearly have, already. His peers isolate him. His teachers make unending demands of him. It takes only a bundle of wheat to crack the rhinoceros beetle’s shell.”</p><p>Dawa clucked. Hesitated.</p><p>“I will not send him away.”</p><p>“Thank you, Monk Dawa,” Gyatso said, bowing.</p><p>“Allow me to finish,” he said, holding up a hand. “I meant what I said when I told you that your affection for him clouds your judgment. You do not train him properly – you act as though he has endless wells of time, and he does not. I will take over his training.”</p><p>Monk Gyatso blinked. “That is… unorthodox.”</p><p>“Do you take issue with that?”</p><p>“I am still his guardian?”</p><p>Dawa nodded.</p><p>Gyatso sighed and held his tongue. “I take no issue.”</p><p>“Very well.”</p>
<hr/><p>The next day, in the early morning before the sun had fully risen, Gyatso led him through the halls. Aang yawned widely. He and Gyatso and Dawa had been up half the night discussing more about the Avatar, teaching him about his duties and what lay ahead.</p><p>He surfaced from the fog when he found himself in front of the doors to the Air Temple Sanctuary. He looked at Gyatso.</p><p>“I get to meet him?” he asked excitedly. He never saw anyone go in or out of these doors. Whoever was in there must be either very ancient or very sneaky.</p><p>“The Elders have decided it is time,” Gyatso said, carefully neutral. Aang knew he was part of the council, too, but whenever they did something he didn’t like, he never said “we” when talking about it. It gave Aang pause, that Gyatso didn’t think it was time yet.</p><p>“What if I’m not ready?” he asked nervously.</p><p>“Then it will be made known to you.”</p><p>Aang groaned. Everything with this Avatar stuff was so cryptic. Nobody ever said what they meant, and no one seemed to know exactly what to do. He supposed that was fair – it had been over four hundred years since Air Nomads had to deal with an Avatar, and probably it had been insanely long since there was an Avatar from the Southern Temple. All the same, he would appreciate it more if they just came right out to say they weren’t sure what to do instead of giving him half-answers that meant nothing.</p><p>“However, it is time you learned. This will help you, in your journey.” Aang shuffled, waiting for something to happen, but Gyatso made no move. Aang stood before the massive doors and took a bending stance. He hesitated, but Gyatso just watched and waited. He took a deep breath, and bended – only gale-force winds were enough to unlock the huge doors.</p><p>The Air Temple Sanctuary was massive. Aang walked in the dark room and felt immediately dwarfed by the sheer size of it. The ceiling was beyond where he could see, round walls scaled up and up and up. There was no one inside, not that Aang could see. It was just statues, starting in a circle in the center of the room and spiraling out and up the walls. He walked through the statues, all of them tall and broad, men and women from every nation carved in stone.</p><p>Gyatso walked silently behind him. The sanctuary felt alive, just like the shrine to Pehar had. He wandered between the statues, listening to the hum of energy – he turned around suddenly, feeling as though he’d heard his name called from down the hall or over running water. He turned and came face to face with a statue of a tall man with long hair and a long beard. He had a strong face, and his eyes, Aang noticed, weren’t stone, but glass or gem that glinted in the dark. He felt Gyatso come to stand behind him.</p><p>“These statues are all your past lives, Aang. This is the Avatar before you -,”</p><p>“Roku,” Aang said softly. Gyatso paused.</p><p>“Have you come here before?” he asked.</p><p>“No. I just… know.”</p><p>“He will guide you and teach you what you need to know about being the Avatar.”</p><p>Aang furrowed his brow. “How? He’s just a statue.”</p><p>“He is a part of you – if you seek to contact him, you will find a way.” Gyatso stared up at the statue. “Roku learned airbending at this temple,” he said.</p><p>Aang turned away from the statue. “Here?”</p><p>“Yes,” Gyatso said, smiling now. “He was a good friend of mine.”</p><p>Aang’s eyes widened, and he pointed towards the statue. “You knew him?” he asked excitedly.</p><p>“He came here to master airbending when he was sixteen. He was a good man. I can think of no one better to guide you.”</p><p>Aang looked back up at Roku. “What was he like?”</p><p>Gyatso’s face softened as he looked at the statue. Then, he laughed. “I did not find out that he was allergic to moon peaches until I hit him in the face with a moon peach pie. He retaliated by gluing a wig of bison fur onto my head as I slept.”</p><p>Aang barked out a startled laugh. “The Avatar played a prank on you?” he asked, still laughing.</p><p>“The Avatar is human like anyone else – do not forget that.” Aang nodded.</p><p>Gyatso gestured to the sanctuary. “This is a sacred place, deeply connected to the Avatar spirit. Should you find yourself in need of guidance, you will find help here.”</p><p>Aang looked around. The thousands of statues trailing up into the unseen ceiling seemed to stare down at him, dwarfing him. He gulped nervously and turned to face Gyatso.</p><p>“When you knew Roku… did he know what he was doing with this whole Avatar thing?”</p><p>Gyatso didn’t answer right away but walked down the line of Avatars. Aang followed, and they stopped in front of a willowy, broad-faced airbender. She was as stoic and imposing as the other statues, despite her familiarity.</p><p>“The Avatar cycle has been the same since the beginning. It is a never-ending chain; no first or last nation to be favored, no element prioritized over any other. Fire, air, water, earth. That was how Roku learned. Air was his second element, and so when I knew him, he was as unsure about his duties as you are now. The Avatar is not born with the innate knowledge and skills of their past lives. It is learned, and it relates heavily to the state of the world during their lives. Roku inherited an age of peace. You inherit an age of unrest.”</p><p>He turned to face Aang. “This whole ‘Avatar thing’ is however you choose to address the problems you face in your lifetime, Aang.”</p><p>Aang frowned. “What if I do it wrong? What if I leave the world worse off than how it would be without me?”</p><p>Gyatso looked down at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I find that very difficult to imagine. Good intentions and a pure heart alone are not enough to heal a wound, but mastery and experience will guide your hand. If this world was left to proceed without you, the balance would be devastated.” He leaned down and squeezed Aang’s shoulder reassuringly.</p><p>“While I am no expert, I have known <em>two </em>Avatars. And I do believe I am qualified to say that I believe the world is in good hands with you.”</p><p>Aang walked heavily back towards the statue of Roku, his thin shoulders slumped forward. He sighed, nodded, and straightened his back. “If he was your friend, then I’m sure he’ll be as good a teacher as you,” Aang said firmly. “I know he will.”</p><p>“I would expect nothing less from my friend,” Gyatso said. “I am meant to deliver you to Monk Dawa after this, to begin your training.”</p><p>Aang turned resignedly towards the door. “Oh, come now. I would not deliver you to train on an empty stomach. I, for one, am craving a pinefruit pie.”</p><p>“I don’t think there’s any left,” Aang said.</p><p>“Well, we’ll have to make one, then, won’t we?”</p><p>Aang suppressed a smile. “I guess if we <em>have </em>to.”</p>
<hr/><p>Aang saw a month pass under the tutelage of Dawa.</p><p>Dawa was kind, but stern. Good-natured, but single-minded. He did not mind when Aang goofed off, but only during their breaks – he had little patience when Aang’s jokes and tricks interrupted a lesson. Gyatso had never minded, and would always laugh or join in. Aang hadn’t seen Gyatso much since Dawa became his teacher.</p><p>It was frustrating – he’d nearly run because the elders were going to separate them, and he’d stayed because they said they <em>wouldn’t</em>. But Aang had only seen Gyatso briefly during the last month. Just a few minutes here and there at the end of the day or in the early mornings.</p><p>Aang resented it, a little – the fact that they’d still managed to separate him and Gyatso, just in a different way. But considering the alternative was to leave and never, ever see him, Aang was grateful for those brief conversations.</p><p>At the end of the month, they had music night. Aang hadn’t expected it, but at midday, after drilling through all the silly, high-level, flashy, useless forms he’d now <em>perfected, </em>thank you very much, Dawa had smiled and dismissed him.</p><p>“You’ve worked hard. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>Aang, grinning wildly, barely remembered to bow before running off.</p><p>“Be here bright and early!” he heard Monk Dawa call after him. Aang didn’t stop, as if Dawa would change his mind if Aang stayed in his presence too long.</p><p>Down in the courtyard, he saw the boys playing the air scooter game. He watched for a bit, and Tashi kindly offered that Aang could referee, if he wanted to. Aang shook his head. They hadn’t ever explained the rules to him, and it wouldn’t be fun if he was refereeing <em>only </em>because he couldn’t play. They all glanced awkwardly at him when he was watching - the fact that he was even there was making them uncomfortable. Aang didn’t get it. Just because he was the Avatar didn’t mean he would cheat or use other elements – he didn’t even know any other elements!</p><p>Besides, they weren’t like this when he got his tattoos. None of the other boys were tattooed yet, and Aang thought that that would be more of an advantage. But no, it was only that he was the Avatar that got him excluded. It was silly.</p><p>Aang left. He knew that he made them uncomfortable when he watched the game, but he wasn’t going to be mean about it, even if it made no monkey-feathered sense.</p><p>He went to go find Gyatso. He’d <em>missed </em>Gyatso, terribly. Aang found him in the Hall of Ten Thousand Voices, helping decorate for music night. The new masters were working under his direction, the young monks helping to hang the wind chimes and the paper lanterns. Aang snuck up behind Gyatso, and when Monk Lo saw him, Aang shook his head, smiling, and pointed at Monk Gyatso who was leaned over a scroll of hymns. Lo suppressed a smile, dark eyes dancing, and turned away.</p><p>Silently, he crept up behind Gyatso, and then jumped on his back with a shriek. Gyatso yelped in surprise, but quickly transitioned into a laugh when he saw Aang.</p><p>“I hope you have not snuck away from Elder Dawa,” he chastised, but his smile and the hand on Aang’s shoulder were welcoming and happy.</p><p>“He gave me the evening off!” Aang chirped. “He said I’ve done very well this month and to enjoy music night.”</p><p>“Well, I am very glad to hear that,” Gyatso said. He leaned down conspiratorially. “I have missed your company, my young friend.”</p><p>“I missed you, too,” Aang said.</p><p>Gyatso straightened. “Would you like to assist us in preparations?”</p><p>“Sure!”</p><p>They spent the afternoon decorating and talking and, when it began to get dark and the monks who were playing arrived to tune their instruments, Aang was sent to the corners of the room to hang thick coils of sandalwood incense from the ceiling. The thick, heavy smoke sank to the ground and followed the natural flow of air through the room. The half-melodies as the monks tuned their erhus and adjusted the tension of the drums echoed through the hall – it sounded like there were a thousand people playing music instead of the dozen who sat at the base of the domed wall that was painted with monks sitting in the clouds, mouths open in song. It wasn’t quite what the all-day echo chamber at the Western Temple was, but the hall was specifically designed for music, not just echoes.</p><p>It was dark, the only light coming from the lanterns and the oil lamps, casting long shadows on the ground that moved as people streamed in, taking seats around the edges of the room, and up in the alcoves along the walls.</p><p>Aang had disappeared in the crowd. Dawa sidled up to Gyatso silently.</p><p>“Your boy has done well,” he said earnestly. “He has as firm a grasp on his bending as you and I.”</p><p>Gyatso smiled. “I am glad to hear that. He has always been a fast learner.” He’d finally spied Aang again, talking to Sonam and Pelbu. It wasn’t like how they used to talk to one another, all overlapping chatter and talking wildly with their hands. Now they frowned and shuffled their feet and spoke softly. Tashi was standing off to the side in their little group, arms wrapped guiltily around his middle, eyes downcast. Gyatso held back a sigh.</p><p>“He has,” Dawa agreed. “The Fire Nation continues its march into the Earth Kingdom. That have claimed Yuanwei, where the nomads who left us in the spring were staying.”</p><p>Gyatso pressed his mouth into a thin line. “They were in violation of the law.”</p><p>“Seventeen of them. We are unable to collect them for a proper burial.”</p><p>They stood in silence for a moment, the temple chattering around them obliviously.</p><p>Dawa broke the silence. “He is a true master, and a prodigy in his own right. You are his guardian, and so I will tell you this. He should begin to learn waterbending. They are preparing to strike us in the heart.”</p><p>After a long moment, Gyatso spoke. “You are correct. Teruko has informed me that they move their soldiers to the borderlands. I ask only that he be accompanied,” Gyatso turned to face him. “He is barely past his twelfth summer, and I understand that it is tradition for the Avatar to travel alone, but no Avatar has ever been trained as a child, Dawa.”</p><p>Dawa placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “He will be accompanied, Gyatso, you needn’t worry about that. We will concern ourselves with whom we task with that once the Water Tribe confirms that we may bring him. We will send word in the morning.”</p><p>Gyatso seemed to deflate at his words, all the air leaving him. Dawa patted his shoulder. “I am sorry that we cannot follow tradition, for his sake.”</p><p>“I am sorry, too,” Gyatso said, shrugging off Dawa’s hand and stalking out. The mountain air was cool when he walked outside. Summer drew to a close, but Gyatso knew there would be no travel this autumn. Not when danger lorded just north.</p><p>He’d have to apologize to Dawa for his abruptness. He had shown him a great kindness in allowing Aang to stay, and it was not Dawa he was angry with.</p><p>Anger sat on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He’d always hated his anger – what a ridiculous emotion. Especially when the anger he felt had no target – no living target, at least. What a strange feeling, to be angry at someone on the behalf of their reincarnation.</p><p>Kyoshi before Roku had lived two and a third centuries. Yangchen had lived a century and a half.</p><p>Gyatso felt absurd anger towards his old friend for leaving the world in such a state, dying when he was hardly old. Eighty meager years was quite young for an Avatar.</p><p>The burden he’d deposited on his successor was massive. And Aang was still so small.</p><p>His anger was useless, poisonous. Gyatso breathed in deeply and let it go. There was nothing to be done for what could have been. The world must act on the present.</p><p>Inside the hall, the music had begun in earnest, and the temple sung with one voice so loud Gyatso thought it strange that the whole world could not hear them.</p><p>The echo hung in the mountains long after the singing stopped. When Gyatso rose for his morning meditation, he thought he could still hear it, and he listened to the song on the wind as he sat under a deep red sunrise.</p>
<hr/><p>The last of the boys and monks had just taken off. Aang stood, not watching them fly north towards the Earth Kingdom, but staring at the rubble in the courtyard where he’d spent his whole childhood playing with his friends. It was broken, the mosaics and tiles all shattered and covered in soot. Worse than that, the bodies. The monks who’d thrown themselves in the line of fire – burned and lying prone and still.</p><p>The Fire Nation soldiers who laid like broken porcelain dolls under rubble – those were strangely the ones that made his stomach hurt the most. They’d come to kill them, to kill everyone. In the distance, he heard the pained groaning of one of the bison they’d shot down, the smell of burned flesh hanging in the smoky air.</p><p>Monk Gyatso turned him away from the wreckage, marching him towards where Appa was waiting. Gyatso hopped up lightly on a puff of air – they were the last to leave. Gyatso cradled his left arm close, the flesh burned, and robes torn.</p><p>Aang heard him speak, but it came as if underwater. He barely noticed the takeoff, eyes still glued to the desolation on the courtyard.</p><p>He flinched when he heard his name. Breaking his stare from the shrinking temple, he saw Gyatso staring at him worriedly. He must have called his name several times.</p><p>Aang blinked, only just realizing he was crying. “It’s my fault,” he whispered.</p><p>Gyatso’s face cracked mournfully. “No, my boy, never think that. It is <em>not </em>your fault in the slightest,” he said forcefully.</p><p>“You heard them,” he croaked. “They wanted the Avatar. They wanted me, and they-,” his breath hitched. “Gopal. Lo. Tashi.” Dead, lying in the courtyard. Because of him. Aang whipped his head up and looked at Gyatso. “And I killed those people. I killed them. What was that?”</p><p>He still felt the soreness, deep in his bones. Could still see the other monks who’d tried to fight the soldiers who destroyed them beyond recognition, the boys trying desperately to escape while the soldiers were held off. Could see Pelbu draped over Tashi’s still form as if he could protect him. Aang had watched as Monk Gyatso moved to the front, knocking some soldiers off the mountain, but failing to keep them back. Then they’d struck him – Aang had sat there and just <em>watched</em> as they struck him and he fell to his knees, clutching his arm. The soldier had reared back, and Monk Gyatso raised his other arm, face set and determined and grim like Aang had never seen it, but what could he do when that man was ready to kill him like they’d killed the other monks, and the boys, and <em>who kills children? Who kills monks and bison? </em></p><p>Aang had <em>screamed </em>and it sounded like a thousand voices screamed with him. The world had gone still, and it was only him and the air. And then he watched as the soldier was struck by a boulder, tossed off the side of the mountain. He felt nothing but fear and rage, terrifying rage<em>, </em>as he watched the other soldiers were encased in rock, tossed off the mountainside, crushed under boulders. Watched and only peripherally realized that <em>he was doing this</em>, as the soldiers and tanks that scaled the mountainside were sent flying down by devastating wind, flying to their deaths. Watched as the mountains grew rough and jagged edges that even the most skilled climber would have difficulty scaling.</p><p>Came back to himself and fell to the ground. Turned, and saw all the boys he’d grown up with, boys like his brothers, watching him with wide, frightened eyes like he would hurt them next. Monk Gyatso cradling his burnt arm, looking at Aang like he’d been given a death sentence.</p><p>Gyatso giving him that same look now, even though they were safe, away from the carnage and the soldiers and their ruthless, faceless determination.</p><p><em>He’d killed them</em>.</p><p>“What did I do?”</p><p>“You entered the Avatar State – your past lives assisted you in a moment of need.”</p><p>Aang clenched his jaw, staring steadfastly at his hands, folded and white-knuckled on his lap. He said nothing.</p><p>“Aang,” Gyatso said softly. He looked up from his hands – Gyatso was still wearing that sad, heartbroken expression. He began to say something but sighed instead. He shook his head.</p><p>“I never wanted this life for you. And if I could shoulder this burden for you, I would,” Gyatso smiled bitterly. “But your destiny is clear – as is mine.”</p><p>Aang blinked away tears – the emotional, honest confession had tightened a belt around his chest. He and Gyatso agreed on pretty much everything – Aang never wanted this for himself, either. And for a moment he felt a flash of bitter anger, at the monks and a little bit at Gyatso, too. For letting him go his whole life thinking he could live simply and peacefully – traveling and having fun and just <em>being a monk</em>, when they <em>knew</em> he would never get that life.</p><p>But Aang couldn’t be mad at Monk Gyatso, really, because he’d been vocal to the point of belligerence about the elders telling him he was the Avatar before he was an adult. And he really couldn’t be mad about being the Avatar, either, because it had let them escape and it had saved Monk Gyatso – if he hadn’t gone into the Avatar State, would anyone have escaped? His thoughts flitted briefly to the other temples, all alone with no Avatar to throw soldiers off the mountains and into the canyons. His stomach hurt at the implications. He turned his thoughts to the immediate problems.</p><p>Gyatso’s burned arm looked <em>awful</em>. Part of him knew it was the unnatural red of the sky, the midday sun making it look worse than it was. Only his forearm had really been burned – there were parts of his hands and fingers that were black, but it was only a little red and blistered up to the shoulder.</p><p>Gyatso pulled his arm a little closer, breaking Aang’s stare. “We can take care of that when we arrive at our destination.”</p><p>Aang blinked up at him, then looked around dazedly, as if just realizing they had gone a completely different direction from the others.</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>Gyatso smiled again – genuine and warm this time.</p><p>“The Southern Water Tribe.”</p>
<hr/><p>The town had gathered at high noon for the announcement from the Fire Lord. That meant business, Kuzon knew. The only time their dinky little town got any official messages from the capital, they were usually supremely uninteresting and announced close to sundown. The fact that everyone had to leave their jobs, he’d had to leave school and march in line to the square to hear this meant it was something big.</p><p>It was sweltering. Late summer, all the heat baking into the stones of the roads without any of the relief of an autumn breeze. The school uniforms with their high collars made it difficult to breathe. And the square was only half full. He’d surely die before getting to hear the announcement.</p><p>He said as much to the boy next to him, who looked at him like he’d grown a second head, or a goat beard. Whatever.</p><p>Reserve soldiers had herded the rest of the town into the square by the time high noon hit – a caller from the capital stepped out onto the veranda used by the mayor.</p><p>“Today is a glorious day in Fire Nation history!” he shouted from the balcony. Kuzon rolled his eyes. His teacher pinched his arm.</p><p>“Today we enter a new era! An era of prosperity and greatness – no longer just for the Fire Nation, but for the world! Fire Lord Sozin, may we honor him, has declared to the whole of the world that he is their ruler and guiding light. There are those who wish to destroy him, and to destroy our nation. Those who would plunge this world into unending darkness – the armies of the Air Nation, the tyrants of the Earth Kingdom, and the warriors of the Water Tribes! Today, Fire Lord Sozin ushers in a golden age! He has dealt a devasting blow to those who would see this world ended before sharing in our generosity! On the day of the Great Comet, Fire Lord Sozin defeated the Air Nation, once and for all. Never again shall their mercenaries stain our land with the blood of innocents! Never again shall their thieves pick our pockets! No airbender escaped justice! Fire Lord Sozin recognized the threat they posed to the world and <em>destroyed them all!</em>”</p><p>The crowd broke into raucous cheering. It thundered like rain on a thatched roof against Kuzon’s ears, muted and blurred. Despite the sweltering heat, he felt very cold. It was important that he show pride in his nation – his silence would be noted and brought against him. But his mouth felt like he’d eaten a wool blanket.  Strange.</p><p>Kuzon was not stupid, despite what his teacher told him. He knew how to read between the lines.</p><p>The Air Nation, which he knew were just temples infrequently inhabited by wanderers and children and teachers, and their army, which he had never seen or heard of before, and their legions of pickpockets and mercenaries – strange professions for people who valued life dearly and possessions little – posed a threat to the Fire Nation so great they had to be destroyed, which the people around him accepted at face value.</p><p>Kuzon felt his stomach roil. From everything that Aang had told him, the Air Nomads would not have been prepared to face an army. Maybe they didn’t even fight back. Kuzon hoped desperately that they did.</p><p><em>Aang</em>. His friend. His friend who flew around and laughed at all his jokes and never got offended when Kuzon said the wrong thing. Very likely dead. Kuzon mentally scratched the thought out. Surely dead. They’d learned about the Great Comet all week and had watched it go by the day before. The caller disappeared back into the building, and the crowd began to shift as everyone returned to what they had been doing before. Uncaring that a bunch of children had been murdered by their leader, and that they’d <em>cheered for it</em>.</p><p>Kuzon separated himself from the school crowd, moving blithely along. Aang had taught him that people are only suspicious when you act suspicious – if you move with confidence people will rarely stop you. It worked for him, and he ran home, still dark and shuttered during the day as his parents worked. He entered the house and leaned heavily against the door, until standing became too much and he had to slide down and sit, knees to chest. He sat and stared at the sunlight patterned on the floor. His jaw jumped.</p><p>Kuzon was no traitor. The Fire Nation was the greatest country in the world. The Fire Nation was prosperous, refined, civilized. The Fire Nation was beautiful and expansive, its people powerful and intelligent.</p><p>The Fire Nation declared war on the whole world, and committed genocide the punctuate the sentence.</p><p>Kuzon was no traitor. To disagree with the word of the Fire Lord was to commit treason. To denounce the actions of the state was a crime. A very small and brave corner of his heart ached to pack a bag and run – but there would be nowhere to go. No friend with a bison to take him away. A larger, and less brave (but still very bold) part of his heart made the decision for him. He went into his room, and pulled out blank parchment.</p><p>His teachers always scolded him for his sloppy writing, and smacked his arm whenever he dropped his hand and smeared the ink. But he wrote carefully, neat and without smudges, everything he knew about Air Nomads. Everything that Aang had told him. It was sloppy and disorganized. It had started off as a list of points, but then transformed into sentences, then morphed into a transcription of some of the conversations Aang had had with him. When he ran out of things to write, he drew their clothes, and the strange tattoos the older ones sported. Aang had no tattoos when he’d seen him last. Kuzon supposed he’d never get them.</p><p>When he finished drawing the clothes, he drew the bison, and the gliders. Then Aang himself, his face as best as Kuzon could remember it. It looked closer to a desert ibex than his friend, but Aang had never been offended by small slights. He’d probably have appreciated the gesture. When he was done, and when he knew his parents would soon be home, Kuzon folded the parchment carefully, placed it in between the pages of a book, wrapped the book in paper, and then wrapped the paper in a pillowcase. Tied it up with a length of twine, and shoved it in the space between his desk and the wall. None too soon, because his mother was home. He sat in his room until the sun went down.</p><p>That night, he ate dinner with his parents and held his tongue as they discussed the glorious new war.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. on the edge of the ocean</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was dark when Aang woke, face pressed into Appa’s leg. It had been dark when they’d landed on the small island, made of pebbles and stones worn smooth by the tides, and dark when he had fashioned a sling for Gyatso’s burned arm, and dark when Aang had pet Appa and spoke softly to him because he was still shaking like he’d been when they took off from the temple. Dark when Aang had gone to sleep and dreamed he’d been in a shop that sold roasted meat, with Kuzon who was dressed in a soldier’s uniform.</p>
<p>He lifted his face and rubbed at the sleep lines, looking over at Gyatso who was holding the beads of his necklace. Aang stood as silently as he could, but the pebbles of the island shifted when he moved, and Gyatso looked over at him. He put his necklace back on, gracelessly as he used only one arm, and stood.</p>
<p>“What time is it?” Aang asked. They were further down south, not yet to where the ice was, but it was still very much winter in this part of the world.</p>
<p>“I am not sure. I believe it is midmorning,” Gyatso said, peering into the dark, grey sky. His robes whipped around him in the wild sea breeze.</p>
<p>“It’s so dark.”</p>
<p>“Yes. The Water Tribe calls this Mother Night,” Gyatso said.</p>
<p>Aang had known, objectively, that the poles saw only one day and one night each year. It was jarring to experience it firsthand. He’d never been so far south – the only time he’d ever met people from Water Tribes was when he was in the Earth Kingdom, but even then, they were few and far between.</p>
<p>“Why do they call it that?”</p>
<p>“Because the dark of the night is said to be comforting like a mother’s embrace,” he answered.</p>
<p>Aang looked around. The sea was softly lapping at the rocky shore, and he couldn’t see far past the whitecaps of the waves. The black of the night made it difficult to figure out what direction to go, and there were storm clouds blocking out the stars. If they hadn’t picked an island still in the Antarctic stream, Aang would be fully turned around. It didn’t feel particularly comforting.</p>
<p>“If we follow the southerly current, a tailwind could get us there in half a day,” Gyatso said, picking across the stones of the island to where Aang stood next to Appa.</p>
<p>They took off, Aang on Appa’s head, steering, and Gyatso sitting towards the front of the saddle. Aang turned around on Appa’s head, back to the wind.</p>
<p>“How are we going to find the Water Tribe?” he asked.</p>
<p>“The Water Tribe is several settlements across the coast of the south pole. We are headed for their main city. Unlike the Air Temples, their location is not a secret. I have been there before.”</p>
<p>Aang was well-traveled, but Gyatso made him look like someone who’d never left their hometown. Aang wasn’t sure there was anywhere in the world Gyatso hadn’t been to at least once.</p>
<p>For a brief moment, he reflected on the fact that it was very likely he wouldn’t get to travel like that, that everything was changed, and the world would be different and would <em>never </em>return to what it was. How could it?</p>
<p>“When we arrive, I must recommend you try the sea prunes. I believe you would like them,” Gyatso said, smiling innocently.</p>
<p>“Definitely!” Aang said, train of thought broken.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He spotted the Water Tribe by luck only. The wind threw snow like small, sharp knives, and Aang knew how to keep himself from getting cold, but his robes were damp from the snow and they’d been up in the air for hours. Gyatso had fallen asleep, but through the grey of the storm, Aang spotted the village. The homes and buildings all circling the center igloo glowed gently with internal light, and there was a large fire at the heart of the tribe. It glittered like a gem against the dark expanse of ice, and the light was soft and fuzzy through the haze of the snow.</p>
<p>It was beautiful. The Water Tribe was almost as isolated and inaccessible to outsiders as the Air Temples were – Aang had never been to either tribe, and he had been nearly everywhere. He woke Gyatso with a shake, and he instructed Aang to set them down a fair way away from the village. Aang set Appa down with the village glowing gently on the horizon, and they began walking the rest of the way. The snow they trudged through was thick and wet and clung to their clothes. Aang tried to clear a path through the snow with a channel of air from his staff, but the ice was slippery, and the snow was so high that much of what Aang blew out of the way just collapsed back down to its original spot. When the village was close enough to see the ice blocks of the wall that surrounded it, he heard shouting, and suddenly Aang’s feet were trapped in ice, and from the startled groan that Appa let out, he assumed they were all trapped. Gyatso simply raised his right hand in a gesture of surrender, and after a beat, Aang followed his lead. From behind unassuming mounds of snow, two men and a woman emerged, their hands at the ready.</p>
<p>“Who approaches us unannounced?” demanded one of the men, his dark blue coat pulled up over his ears, face wrapped in cloth against the bitter cold.</p>
<p>“We come from the Southern Air Temple,” Gyatso called back, calm and collected.</p>
<p>“Show both your hands!” the other man called, shakier than his comrade.</p>
<p>“Ah, I am afraid this one does not work so well at the moment,” he replied, gesturing to his sling without lowering his right arm.</p>
<p>“Why are you here?” the woman called.</p>
<p>“We seek refuge – our temple was attacked.”</p>
<p>Aang watched as the three waterbenders spoke quietly amongst themselves, too far for Aang to hear their words. Then, the woman approached them. She kept her hands at the ready as she walked towards them but moved confidently. As she drew closer Aang could see her better – the blue-ish indigo of her parka was trimmed with white fur and embroidered with abstract details. Her face was entirely covered with a scarf except her eyes, which were sharp and blue and sized them up as she approached.</p>
<p>“Who attacked you?” she asked when she was just a few feet away from them.</p>
<p>“The Fire Nation,” Gyatso answered her, hand still raised, open palm facing out. Aang watched as her eyes flitted down to his burned arm – now a day old and desperately in need of treatment. She turned to Aang, who raised his hands slightly higher under her piercing gaze. She looked to Appa and nodded sharply at him.</p>
<p>“Is your beast tame?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Aang said nervously. “Very tame. Really, very tame and nice.”</p>
<p>The waterbender gave him a strange look but walked back towards her companions, who edged closer. Aang could hear them speaking, this time.</p>
<p>“What have we?” the first man asked.</p>
<p>“An injured old man and a child, and their beast they say is tame. They were attacked by the Fire Nation, apparently.”</p>
<p>“Why do they not seek refuge among other airbenders?”</p>
<p>“How should I know?”</p>
<p>“Send them away,” the second man said, and Aang almost interjected before the woman spoke again.</p>
<p>“Don’t be an ass. We’ll let chief handle them.”</p>
<p>The second man spoke. “They could be dangerous.”</p>
<p>“They’re airbenders, they’re not dangerous to anyone,” answered the first man.</p>
<p>Aang felt vaguely patronized but the man beckoned them closer, indicating to drop their hands.</p>
<p>The woman placed her hand on Gyatso’s uninjured shoulder, and the second man pulled Aang along in a bruising grip. The first man walked behind them, cleared his throat pointedly, and the hard grip on Aang’s arm lessened slightly.</p>
<p>The three waterbenders escorted them through the village, Appa trudging along behind them. With the dark of the endless night shrouded over the village, Aang had half assumed that people would be sleeping, but the village bustled with life – a group of men setting out beyond the walls of the village with fishing nets slung over their shoulders, a gaggle of children chasing a polar dog and laughing. It felt like the middle of the night, but Aang supposed they were used to this strange darkness that stretched between the equinoxes.</p>
<p>The warriors who escorted them marched Aang and Gyatso into a large building of ice neighboring the center igloo. Aang couldn’t help a sigh as he entered; a great fire burned in the center of the room and the air was warm. There was a group of people gathered around a table scattered with papers, and at the head of the table there was a woman with brown hair so dark it was almost black, greyed at the temples, draped in a cloak of white fur over her blue tunic. She spotted the strange group approaching her and stood. Aang saw how the waterbenders who were escorting them bowed as soon as she laid eyes on them, and knew she was a leader or elder. Gyatso bowed respectfully, and so Aang followed his lead. The woman looked at them appraisingly, eyes flitting to Appa, big nose huffing in the doorway that was much too small for him.</p>
<p>Wordlessly, she waved a hand behind her, and the people gathered around the table stood and walked out of the room, ducking under Appa’s head. When the last of them had left, she turned around and walked back to where she had been sitting before.</p>
<p>“Please, sit,” she said. The three warriors took the seats between her and the two airbenders. The table was low to the ground, polished driftwood bleached white by the sun, and they kneeled around it on animal furs. Aang ran his hands over the furs uneasily. Most of the clothing he’d ever owned was made of bison wool, from fur that was freely shed every spring. He was unused to the many animal skins and leather that the Water Tribe relied on.</p>
<p>The elder woman stared at Gyatso’s arm and cocked her head curiously.</p>
<p>“What sort of fight does an Air Nomad pick? I was under the impression you fancied yourselves above such things,” she questioned.</p>
<p>“They say their temple was attacked,” the first man said. The woman held her hand up.</p>
<p>“Taamusi, I would like to hear this story firsthand,” she said, not unkindly. Aang looked at the man, who had removed the scarf from his face to reveal the soft lines of middle age and a thick, dark beard.</p>
<p>“What are your names?” she asked.</p>
<p>“I am Gyatso, elder of the council of the Southern Air Temple.”</p>
<p>Aang shrunk as she turned her gaze on him, slightly intimidated. “Uh. I’m Aang,” he said.</p>
<p>The corner of her mouth quirked for the barest second before it was gone again, and her face was a stony mask.</p>
<p>“I am Chief Aaju of the Southern Water Tribe. You have met some of our finest warriors already, Taamusi,” she gestured to the man with the beard, who dipped his head in acknowledgement, “Tagak,” she gestured to the younger man who watched them warily, “and Aluki,” she said, the other woman who had first approached them smiled kindly. She, too, had removed the scarf from her face. She was not old, her hair still dark, but her eyes were lined.</p>
<p>Tagak was watching the interaction with hawk’s eyes, staring Aang down suspiciously. Aang didn’t shirk from his gaze, taking the opportunity to study him. He was the youngest out of the people they’d met so far, and his skin was a little lighter than the deep brown that most of the tribe sported. He held himself tense and straight. Aang knew the Water Tribe only saw visitors during trade seasons, and this time of year with the ice and tundra nearly impossible to traverse, they were suspicious of people showing up unannounced.</p>
<p>Chief Aaju didn’t speak, sitting back and waiting for them to talk. Gyatso obliged.</p>
<p>“We come seeking refuge. The Fire Nation attacked our temple. Many people were killed, and so we fled.”</p>
<p>Chief Aaju raised an eyebrow. “Were the two of you the only ones to escape?”</p>
<p>“No. Many of our companions fled into the Earth Kingdom.”</p>
<p>“How did the Fire Nation find your temple?”</p>
<p>“I do not know,” Gyatso answered. “But I believe that this attack was planned long ago. Perhaps you saw the sky, yesterday?”</p>
<p>“It was like dawn,” she said.</p>
<p>“It gave them a healthy advantage.”</p>
<p>The chief huffed. “I am well aware of the Fire Nation’s movements. One of the trade ports in the west was seized, and our goods were stolen when we arrived there. Is this an earnest start?”</p>
<p>“It is,” Gyatso said simply. “I find it difficult to imagine that our sister temples were not also attacked.”</p>
<p>She narrowed her eyes. “What a use of their power, to attack your people, when their previous movement focused on the Earth Kingdom. I must wonder what drew them to you – the far-flung conquest is quite risky.”</p>
<p>“This was not a conquest.”</p>
<p>Aaju was silent then, before sitting back, relaxing her stance. “Our home is your refuge, Gyatso and Aang.”</p>
<p>Aang blinked, surprised at how easily they were welcomed. Their conversation had been strange, and Aang had the feeling he was missing a lot of information, but they seemed to have reached an understanding.</p>
<p>Gyatso dipped his head. “I thank you for your hospitality. I must make a single request.”</p>
<p>Tagak huffed, but a sharp look from the chief stilled him.</p>
<p>“I can make no promises. What is your request?” she asked.</p>
<p>Gyatso laid his right hand on Aang’s shoulder. “My young friend is in need of a waterbending master.”</p>
<p>Aaju frowned. “For what?”</p>
<p>“To learn waterbending.”</p>
<p>Aluki was the first to react, her mouth parting in surprise, eyebrows raised. Aaju’s eyes widened, but she nodded. After a beat, the two men simultaneously whipped their heads to look at Aang.</p>
<p>“I see,” the chief said. She glanced at Aang, then looked back to Gyatso. “The risk of the far-flung conquest would have been rewarded with a great victory, for them.”</p>
<p>“It would have,” Gyatso answered quietly, hand tight on Aang’s shoulder. Aang felt very small under their collective gaze. Abruptly, Chief Aaju stood.</p>
<p>“You require a healer. Come,” she said, not waiting for them to rise before walking briskly to the door. She brought them to a small building, near the back of the village, which glowed with soft blue light. The two waterbender men had left, presumably to return to their posts, but Aluki still trailed behind the group as they entered the healing hut. There was a grey-haired woman demonstrating what looked like a very complicated technique on a dummy, as a small group of teens sat and watched. They turned as a collective when the newcomers entered. The woman’s gaze fell on Gyatso’s arm, and she stood immediately.</p>
<p>“Students, dismissed. <em>Don’t </em>practice that technique before we finish learning about it – you’ll only hurt yourself.” She moved the dummy away from the pool of water and beckoned Gyatso over, her gaze scrutinizing.</p>
<p>Aang knelt next to the pool in the center of the room as Gyatso obligingly laid on the center platform. The healer sat across from him, and moved quickly and deftly, peeling away the sling, which stuck to his skin.</p>
<p>“How old is this?” she asked, moving her hands so that water encased his arm. It began to glow blue, lighting the room up. “One day?”</p>
<p>“One and a half,” Gyatso answered. The healer shot Aluki and Aaju a stern look.</p>
<p>“And you did not bring him immediately?”</p>
<p>“Apologies, Pikta.”</p>
<p>“Apologies, apologies,” the healer, Pikta, muttered as she worked steadily. The chief took a seat kneeling next to Aang, and Aluki stationed herself at the entryway. Aang watched as she worked, moving her hands along his arm, trailing the path of his tattoos. Gyatso was silent, but his face was lined and tense. Aang clasped his hands together, watching nervously.</p>
<p>Chief Aaju turned to him, offering her arm. “It is an honor to meet you, Avatar Aang. I only wish it were under kinder circumstances.”</p>
<p>Aang grasped her forearm and shook. “Me too. Thank you for taking us in,” he said softly.</p>
<p>She was quiet as Pikta continued her work. Then she leaned back over towards Aang, speaking quietly. “I have never seen such a severe burn. It looks almost like frostbite. How did you manage to escape?”</p>
<p>Aang didn’t meet her eyes, focusing on the water of the healing hut.</p>
<p>“I don’t know exactly… but I did something.”</p>
<p>Aaju looked at him, searchingly, and he felt very exposed under her gaze. She turned back, watching Pikta work.</p>
<p>“My father-in-law’s dad trained Avatar Roku,” she offered. Aang nodded, wanting to be surprised but unable to muster the energy.</p>
<p>“It seems like Roku pops up everywhere. Monk Gyatso knew him, too.”</p>
<p>“He would often travel back to the Northern Water Tribe to visit. My father-in-law met him as a child, before he moved here. To you, it seems that Roku pops up everywhere, but perhaps it is the Avatar who does – finding people and sticking with them, across lifetimes.”</p>
<p>The blue light faded, and Pikta moved to wrap Gyatso’s arm in bandages, smothering it in some green paste that smelled vaguely of mulled plum wine.</p>
<p>“I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Aang said softly.</p>
<p>“Fate strings us along, but our destinies are our own. We have many skilled teachers from whom you can learn, but if I may put in my own recommendation – it would be a great honor for the same family to train two Avatars.” She smiled at him, slightly, the same way Gyatso smiled. Aang dipped his head.</p>
<p>“It would be a great honor to be taught by your family, Chief Aaju.”</p>
<p>She clapped him in the shoulder. “Wonderful. You will begin tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Aang blinked.  “That seems… soon.”</p>
<p>Gyatso snickered, and Aang pouted back at him. “Shouldn’t I meet my teacher first? You know, to see if we’re a good fit?” he asked.</p>
<p>“You’ve already met your master, my wife Aluki,” Chief Aaju said.</p>
<p>Aang turned to Aluki, who smiled broadly and waved though she was only a few steps away. He waved back.</p>
<p>Pikta helped Gyatso rise, giving him stern instructions to report to her in the morning. Aaju stood and beckoned them to follow her. She brought them to a long house, with another short door that Appa filled with his nose, huffing his warm, stinky breath into the room. The building was a single room, very large, but shaped like a hall – long and bordering on narrow. Aaju and Aluki sat across from them at another bleached wood table, laden with food.</p>
<p>He and Gyatso picked their way over plates of fish and seal, eating their fill of arctic hen eggs, cloudberries, and seaweed. They informed Aaju and Aluki of what they knew – little word of the outside reached the Water Tribe in the dark months, when the ice was thick, and the traders couldn’t travel. Gyatso spoke of things even Aang wasn’t aware of, Fire Nation troop movements and the testing of the Earth Kingdom’s western border. Aang filed the information away, realizing that what had happened was likely in the works for a long time.</p>
<p>It hit him, then, for just a moment how big it all was, how little he knew about it, and how he had no idea what he was doing. It must have shown on his face, because Aluki pulled a fist of water from the ice of the walls and made a little effigy of Appa and gave it to him, promising she’d show him how to do it.</p>
<p>After a while, Aaju stood and declared it to be late. Aang and Gyatso went along passively, and Aang supposed they’d get used to whatever arbitrary schedule worked for them during the endless night.</p>
<p>The village had settled while they were inside talking, all the homes were quietly glowing with little fires in the hearths.</p>
<p>They were deposited in a large room - Aang suspected it was a storage area of some kind, but it was the only thing they had that was big enough to fit Appa. Their hosts had brought in a couple of beds and furs for them and strung up a dividing screen. The people of the tribe had settled already, but Aang wasn’t tired. It wasn’t something he was used to, the constant night. The chief had brought them new clothes, tunics and parkas in Water Tribe blue. Gyatso had already donned his new clothes, the old robes from the temple all burned and ruined, but Aang kept his. There was something disconcerting about wearing the skin of another being, but there was also something very comforting about the clothes in the wake of what had happened.</p>
<p>If he didn’t have Appa, or Gyatso, his clothes or his staff, he would have very little left of his home.</p>
<p>Though he wasn’t tired he laid down on the furs, closing his eyes. How strange that just three days ago he was training under Dawa, upset because he couldn’t play airball with his friends, helping decorate for music night. He turned his face into the bed – it was softer than the one from home, which had been stuffed with hay, and always smelled fruity and musky and like mountain air. This new bed smelled of salt and ice and tallow.</p>
<p>Tashi had offered that he referee the game, and then was dead. Monk Lo had been complicit in Aang’s scheme to sneak up on Gyatso, and then was dead. The ones who managed to escape – would they be safe? Were they as distraught? Were they seeing the scenes in their mind’s eye, thrown in sharp relief against the black?</p>
<p>He jerked awake, in a sitting position though he didn’t remember sitting up. He didn’t remember falling asleep. It was still before the waking hours, the village outside silent except for the howl of wind across the flat scape of ice. Appa’s deep breaths whooshed in and out, like white noise, and Aang calmed his own heaving breaths by matching them in time. After a minute or two, he looked over at Gyatso who was propped up on one elbow, watching silently, blinking owlishly in the dark.</p>
<p>Without thinking, Aang rose and made his way over, curling into Gyatso’s side like he did when he was small, from before he had real memories and everything he remembered was more like a scene out of a dream. It was comforting. Aang closed his eyes, under the arm of his teacher, and thought that maybe he’d wake up and be in his own bed, at the temple, which was not broken and scorched and littered with bodies, but lively and whole and untouched by violence.</p>
<p>“Gyatso?”</p>
<p>“Hm?” Aang felt rather than heard it.</p>
<p>He sighed, sent a silent prayer of thanks out for what had endured.</p>
<p>“Nothing.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Masahiro picked through the wreckage; hand clasped to his face. The stench was horrendous, but they wouldn’t spend much longer there. No one had returned, and so Masahiro and his troops had been sent to investigate.</p>
<p>Well, it was simple. No one survived, there were far more bodies of soldiers than bodies of Air Nomads, and they were – he winced at one particularly gruesome scene – certainly not killed with airbending. He sighed, stepping over a tiny body clad in orange and yellow. A shame, truly, but necessary for the sake of the world.</p>
<p>The Avatar had long been used as a weapon, used to keep the strong on the same level – he stepped over another orange and yellow form – as the weak. To get rid of the Avatar was good, and would allow the world to progress naturally, would allow the strong and civilized to spread out and be prosperous.</p>
<p>This scene, however, was bad. He’d have to report that their troops had been bested by the Avatar.</p>
<p>Masahiro looked up to one of the higher buildings. The great form of one of the bison was being consumed by vultures, and he grinned ruefully. One of the balconies had been ripped away from a tower, and he traced a line in the sky to where it lay, crushing a tank. He sighed. The Fire Lord would not be happy to hear the Avatar escaped, off to hone his lethal prowess until he could finish the job, could destroy the whole Fire Nation like he’d destroyed these poor countrymen of his.</p>
<p>He tripped over a small piece of rubble, and looked down, realizing that the whole area he’d been walking on had been some grand mosaic. It was nothing but rubble and gravel.</p>
<p>The Avatar was powerful already, if he was able to cause this. Masahiro signaled his men to begin clearing the soldiers’ bodies.</p>
<p>He narrowed his eyes at the carnage. The Avatar was clearly deadly, powerful, and evil. What untold destruction would continue, as he remained free?</p>
<hr/>
<p>Aang shrieked in a very undignified manner as one of the girls shoved a snowball down the back of his tunic, and it cut off with a grunt as two of the littler kids leapt over the snow fort they’d built and tackled him to the ground. As he lay helpless, another boy his age smiled a toothy grin and bent a massive snowball suspended in the air, more like the base for a snowman than anything someone could make with their hands, and dropped it unceremoniously on his face. He blinked through it, then huffed out a huge breath, dispersing it, sending the snow onto the kids who surrounded him.</p>
<p>They shrieked and brushed themselves clean, and then Aang found himself pulled forward by two girls who screamed <em>dibs </em>at their rivals, tugging him behind their snow fort and asking if he could help them in the fight. He grinned seeing the huge stockpile of snowballs they’d made, and created a funnel of air, twisting his hands around some unseen current, and instructing them to drop the snowballs at a point above his shoulder. They soared across the no-man’s-land between the two snow forts, and hardly a snowball returned in their direction. Abruptly, he was pulled to a standing position by the collar of his shirt. In the brief cease-fire, one of the kids from the other side threw a snowball at him, which splattered on the back of his head.</p>
<p>Aluki frowned down at him, shaking her head disapprovingly. He smiled cheekily, but she pulled him away from the fray, and the Water Tribe kids he’d been hanging out with groaned disappointedly.</p>
<p>Aang resisted the urge to join them. It had been a good while since he’d been able to just have fun with kids his own age. They knew he was the Avatar and didn’t even care! It rocked, but Aluki clucked at him, and brought him to a flat plane of ice on the outside of the wall, cleared of the thick, crystalline snow. Aluki took a stance, then shoved her arms away from her body, forward and direct, and the ice split, forming a small pond of liquid water. She pointed to it.</p>
<p>“Bend that.”</p>
<p>Aang blinked, feeling as though he’d missed the first day and come in without studying.</p>
<p>“Uh, Sifu Aluki. I don’t know how to do that.”</p>
<p>She shrugged, then crafted a small chair of ice and took a seat. “Try it.”</p>
<p>He furrowed his brows but sank into a bending stance. He closed his eyes, trying to feel the water instead of the air. Concentrating, he felt a current of something, a tried to move it in a circle. The ice beneath him lurched and let out a deafening crack. He lost his balance with an exclamation of surprise, but before he fell or the crack in the ice became too large, Aluki stood, and froze the plane back into solid ice.</p>
<p>Aang rubbed the back of his head. “My bad,” he said, trying for levity. Aluki didn’t look angry, though. Just thoughtful.</p>
<p>“No, that’s what I wanted to see.” She looked at him appraisingly. “You’re powerful. Better that we know that just starting out than further down the line.”</p>
<p>She looked him up and down, walking in a circle around him. “Get into a stance,” she said.</p>
<p>He obliged, but she tutted and frowned. “That’s your airbending stance?”</p>
<p>Aang nodded.</p>
<p>She shook her head. “You’re ready to take off. You’ve been swimming before, in the ocean?”</p>
<p>“Yeah! On Kangaroo Island, me and one of my friends -,”</p>
<p>“Great!” Aluki cut him off. “Feel that, in your stance, like you’re in the shallows and the undertow is pulling you in and the waves are pushing you out. How do you stand?”</p>
<p>He took a wider stance, feet pressed firmly to the ground, weight focused on the flat of his feet rather than balanced on the ball. Unconsciously, he dug his toes into the ground as if trying to gain traction in shifting sand.</p>
<p>“Better. Your posture is a bit rigid, loosen up.”</p>
<p>Aang rolled his shoulders, leaned a touch forward.</p>
<p>“That’s it,” Aluki said, grinning. She mirrored him, taking a stance of her own.</p>
<p>She re-crafted the pond of water and held out her hands. Aang held his hands out in the same way, and without speaking, she began to move forwards and backwards, a wave jumping to her command, mimicking her movement.</p>
<p>Aang followed suit, and a slightly smaller wave emerged from his side. He split into a grin.</p>
<p>“Hey, I’m bending! I got it!”</p>
<p>“Great! Keep going, then.”</p>
<p>They moved in tandem for a minute before Aang spoke.</p>
<p>“I think I’ve got it,” he said happily, beginning to relax his stance.</p>
<p>“Don’t drop it,” she said. He snapped back into his stance and continued the movement for another silent minute.</p>
<p>He opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking. “I think I’m ready for something harder.”</p>
<p>“Nope! Good form, though,” Aluki said, smiling.</p>
<p>He frowned. Pushed and pulled the water for several more silent minutes. He was about to say something, when Aluki finally broke her silence.</p>
<p>“This is fundamental. Everything you know about waterbending will stem from the understanding of this. When children learn, this is often something they discover on their own. It is the nature of water to be in constant motion. You should feel this movement as you sleep at night, your bed like a ship on the ocean. If you cannot grasp the movement of water, then water will move you. You will be dragged out by the riptide and drowned in the ocean.”</p>
<p>His eyes widened, and the water of his wave shivered, its motion stuttering. “Really?” he asked nervously. Water was healing, life-giving, he’d thought.</p>
<p>“Water moves in reciprocation – high tide to low tide, life to death, push to pull. Every movement is met and mirrored. You shouldn’t fear it – just understand you will have to compensate for this movement. Anticipate it and use it to your advantage.” She pulled a motion of water from the wave and sent it in circles around them.</p>
<p>“Pull the water to you,” Aluki said, bringing the water to her hands from where it was suspended behind Aang, “And it will want to push back,” she said as it circled behind her, then shoved her hand out and the water smacked him in the chest and sent him to the ground with a grunt.</p>
<p>She laughed at him as he stood, sopping wet, and airbended himself dry.</p>
<p>“It just takes practice.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The Avatar was alive. The Avatar was from the Southern Temple. The Avatar was born when Roku died. The Avatar massacred their troops.</p>
<p>Sozin sat with the information, digesting and processing it, taming his anger for a later, more functional purpose. What did this mean, then?</p>
<p>The Avatar was likely in the Earth Kingdom, or among the Water Tribes – the Southern Temple had housed males, and so the Avatar was a boy born when Roku died. Twelve years, the anniversary never passed unremembered. The Avatar was clearly highly trained, already.</p>
<p>He cursed the comet for its timing. Had it come even a handful of years earlier, perhaps his plan would’ve been more thorough, more successful. It could’ve been perfect, but the Avatar remained: a twelve-year-old boy, seeking refuge in a nation that would repel Fire Nation forces with vitriol. A desperate rage filled his chest, that the Avatar could still ruin his plans, again. Sozin ached to go hunt the boy himself.</p>
<p>He forced himself to ruminate on that, what it would mean. That he would leave the nation in Azulon’s hands, without guidance. That he was an old enemy of the Avatar (once an old friend). His passion and anger meant he had a personal stake in ensuring the Avatar’s demise. His personal involvement and emotion meant he could hurt the mission by being consumed with the need for revenge. What he needed was someone cold, calculating. Someone able to get the job done, because it was, in the end, just a job, something to finish, a task to cross off as he worked to remake the world into something greater. But someone who would not fall into carelessness. Someone who was willing and capable, without the baggage Sozin carried (a crown he gave away, because it was too heavy). He rose.</p>
<p>He knew what he needed to do.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Prince Azulon,” his dad barked from behind him. Azulon put down the bowl of noodles, swallowing quickly. He coughed – ugh, that was a whole pepper. He turned, stood, bowed to his father, the depth respectful and low to cover the tears that built in his eyes.</p>
<p>“Fire Lord Sozin,” he said, still in his bow, coughing quietly. Why did they put <em>whole </em>peppers? He’d have to have a word with the kitchen.</p>
<p>“I have a task for you.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“You know what’s silly?” Aang asked into the dark, face half smushed into Appa’s leg.</p>
<p>“What is silly?” came Gyatso’s muffled voice from beneath the pile of warm blankets in their official sleeping area.</p>
<p>“I miss honey.”</p>
<p>“Water Tribe cuisine is unique, individual ingredients separated and eaten without spice,” Gyatso said, in that way that sounded like he was agreeing but also not.</p>
<p>Aang sighed, nestling further into the crook of Appa’s leg. “I know. It’s stupid.”</p>
<p>“It is not.” Aang looked over, and Gyatso was sitting up now. “You will eat honey again someday,” he said seriously.</p>
<p>Aang screwed his face up and hid it in Appa’s fur so that Gyatso wouldn’t see. “Do you -,” his voice cracked, and so he cleared his throat and tried again.</p>
<p>“Do you think anyone from the other temples got out?” he asked, working to not whisper because Gyatso was on the other side of the room.</p>
<p>“I do not know. I know many travelers were out in the world, and away from the temples.”</p>
<p>“Do you think Palmo’s okay?” he asked. The Eastern Temple was far from the Fire Nation, and they had the most bison. Palmo was <em>always </em>near the bison. She could’ve gotten away easily.</p>
<p>“I do not know,” Gyatso said again. Aang nodded silently. She could’ve gotten away (but she wouldn’t, not without the girls all safe first).</p>
<p>“I hope that some people got away,” he said after a minute.</p>
<p>“We cannot know. We will, eventually, know what happened, and we may meet our friends again. For now, it is best not to dwell on it,” Gyatso said.</p>
<p>Aang sat up sharply. “What do you mean? We just shouldn’t think about it? It doesn’t matter?” he said, throwing his hands out, anger sitting heavy on his chest.</p>
<p>“Hope is a double-edged blade,” Gyatso began, “one side cuts through sorrow and circumstance and self-pity, and enables us to struggle forward, to reach what was once only imaginable. The other side cuts the hand that holds the blade incorrectly, because we sit with it, let it distract us, and think only what might be or what could be, and neglect what is.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Aang ground out, frustrated. “I just,” he sighed.</p>
<p>“I was just thinking that it was probably really, really bad at the other temples,” he said, voice low. “It was bad, but it – then I did that <em>thing</em>. But -,”</p>
<p>“Aang,” Gyatso gently cut him off.</p>
<p>Aang looked down and away.</p>
<p>“You will destroy yourself if you allow this to consume you.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Aang said.</p>
<p>“I did not mean that you had done anything wrong.” He paused for a few long moments. “Do you remember what I told you in the Fire Nation, after Monk Duga was killed?”</p>
<p>“Don’t eat food from the garbage?”</p>
<p>Gyatso laughed. “No. The other thing.”</p>
<p>Aang thought for a moment. “Oh. Air circumvents?”</p>
<p>“Yes. It can rise above turmoil or navigate through its thickets. Do not allow yourself to be tangled in and lost among the weeds. What has happened has already happened, whether we are aware of it or not. So now, you must rise above the thickets of sorrow and fear and concentrate on here and now.”</p>
<p>Aang nodded, not quite meeting Gyatso’s eyes. Then he heard the shifting of the furs and looked up to see Gyatso standing. He made his way over to Appa, knelt, and gathered Aang into his arms, the left one still bandaged and smelling of plum wine.</p>
<p>“I know,” Aang said into Gyatso’s shoulder. “I know I shouldn’t dwell. I could’ve helped them, if I had been there, but-,” he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “But I killed people. And I know they were trying to kill <em>us </em>but I killed them and they’re dead and I did that.”</p>
<p>“My boy, can you earthbend?” Gyatso asked.</p>
<p>Aang pulled back slightly and blinked at him. “Huh?”</p>
<p>Gyatso asked again. “Can you earthbend?”</p>
<p>Aang frowned. “I mean. Technically. Not yet. Why?”</p>
<p>“Because those soldiers were killed with earthbending.”</p>
<p>Aang furrowed his brow. “But I still did that,” he insisted.</p>
<p>“You were in the Avatar State, which is a combination of all your past lives. You were all of them, in that time, and you earthbended and the soldiers died. But you, sitting right here, cannot earthbend, and you in your right mind are not a murderer,” he stated.</p>
<p>But Aang shook his head. “If that’s what the Avatar State is, then I’m <em>never </em>going to use it again,” he said.</p>
<p>“Did you make that choice in the first place?” Gyatso asked.</p>
<p>Aang groaned. “I don’t <em>want </em>to use it!” he said.</p>
<p>“Like the elements, the Avatar State is something you must master before becoming fully realized. Before that, it can be unpredictable and deadly.” Aang looked down in shame. Gyatso took hold of his hand. “But that loss of control was not a malicious choice on your part. Merely the survival mechanism of your spirit. Think about what could have happened if you hadn’t been there that day.”</p>
<p>Probably what happened to Tashi and Lo and maybe Palmo and maybe all the other temples. Dead, burnt, unrecognizable, unburied. He blinked hot tears away before they could fall.</p>
<p>“If you take a life once you’ve mastered the Avatar State, or outside of it, if you make that choice and see it through – then you can grapple with this guilt again.”</p>
<p>Aang leaned into his side, like he did that night he was prepared to leave it all behind. A different scene, a different discussion, but Gyatso knew him best and he’d never love anyone in quite the same way.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“It was the tradition of the Air Nation to snatch babes from the arms of their parents, and spirit them away in the night – it was so ingrained into their culture that no airbender knew who their parents were and would never know their children. Those who challenged this oppressive regime were often cast out into the world to live in exile. Fire Lord Sozin, after learning about this barbaric practice, asserts that we must combat such evil by loving and cherishing our families. Children should honor their parents, parents cherish their children, men should cherish their wives, and women should honor their husbands. Raising up a large family and honoring our ancestors is how the rest of the world will learn civility. We must lead by example.”</p>
<p>Half the time when his teacher spoke, Kuzon tuned it out. It wasn’t on purpose, except for sometimes. But he’d heard “air” and sat up a little straighter, listening intently.</p>
<p>It was strange. They had learned very little about the Air Nomads before the war, but now that they were all gone, it was as though he heard about them every day. All of it was glaringly negative.</p>
<p>He’d forced his thoughts away from it, chanting <em>lie lie lie </em>in his mind as his teacher spoke of how the airbenders would steal infants from other nations for religious rituals, how they would bribe foreign politicians in exchange for favors, how they would throw children off cliffsides like baby birds to see whether they’d fly or not.</p>
<p>Except. A few times, it made sense. Except, a few times there would be something about them so horrible it couldn’t have been made up.</p>
<p>
  <em>No airbender knew who their parents were and would never know their children.</em>
</p>
<p>Aang had never spoken of a mother or father. Aang had mentioned a guardian, who was not a parent, but was assigned to be in charge of him.</p>
<p>Kuzon felt sick. What his teacher was saying was clearly correct, in one way or another. What else was right, of what he’d learned?</p>
<p>How they’d throw children off the cliffs to see whether they’d fly – Aang had mentioned throwing children into the air before. <em>They always come back up</em>, he’d said, but was that just because they’d come up the first time? A nation with no non-bending population – was that how they culled their generations?</p>
<p>He walked home heavily, with an ache in his stomach. The air blew violently, whipping his hair into his face, but instead of the cool breezes they normally felt so late in the year, the air was hot and dry like midsummer.</p>
<p>Kuzon’s home was dark and shuttered, and he did not open the windows or light the lamps when he arrived home. Instead, he crawled under his desk and retrieved the little wrapped package he’d stowed in the crevice between the desk and the wall almost two months before. He carefully unwrapped it.</p>
<p>He read the words he’d scrawled himself without emerging from beneath the desk, eyes drinking in the truth, forcing himself to remember what he had been so sure of just a few weeks ago.</p>
<p>Kuzon had written a snatch of conversation from the last time he’d talked to his friend.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Gyatso said that was part of the reason he decided to be a monk instead of living like the nomads.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“The pies?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“No! That he could help raise the kids and teach new generations. That that was why he never had kids of his own. But also the pies.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I thought you guys weren’t allowed to have kids?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Why? Where do you think we come from, then?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I don’t know! It just seemed like I never hear you talk about families or anything.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“It’s kind of complicated.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Well now I have to know.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Okay, so most of the kids who come to the temples to learn airbending are the kids of the nomads – the airbenders who don’t live at the temples. And whenever the nomads have kids, they can decide what to do. So if they want their kid to learn airbending and become a master and get tattoos, they send them to be raised at the temples. If they would rather teach their kids themselves, they can do that. And then sometimes when an Air Nomad has a family with someone from another nation, they’ll adapt to whatever is that tradition.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“So the only way people can be master airbenders is if their parents just… give them up?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Well, no, cause I had a kid in one of my classes when I was little who was seventeen. His parents had raised him, but he wanted to become a master and learn the traditional way, so he came to the temple. It’s up to the parents, really, but mostly everyone was raised in the temples, so they’ll send their kids to learn in the same way.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What if the parents regret it and want their kid back?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I never heard of that happening before… I think it involves a lot of thought, the decision. Besides, they can’t drop the kids off until they’re weaned, so they have lots of time to think it over.”</em>
</p>
<p>Kuzon closed his eyes and fought to not clutch the parchment tightly, to not crumple and ruin it. He trusted what he had written, what his friend had taught him. He hadn’t read the paper since writing it, and now looking over everything, every scrawled piece of information, like the way Aang had refused to take a candle he’d been offered because it was made from animal fat, reaffirmed what Kuzon had known.</p>
<p>Aang had said he didn’t eat meat because he had been taught that all life is sacred, even the tiniest spider-fly or the slowest petal slug, even when they buzz in your ear or eat the leaves off everything in the garden. Aang had told him exactly how families function in his culture. He felt a bitter swoop of shame for thinking that anything else was true.</p>
<p>It was just that <em>so much </em>had been taught to him about the Air Nation – the Air Nomads – that he could hardly remember what he’d learned about them last week, let alone what his friend had said in passing a year before.</p>
<p>Kuzon had written everything he’d known because his friend was dead and his culture destroyed, and some devasted part of his heart wanted something of it to have survived, even if just in the untidy handwriting of a foreigner. He was glad, now, he’d done it, because he hadn’t anticipated forgetting and hadn’t considered that he would maybe think something else that wasn’t true – and it made sense.</p>
<p>His teacher said he was simple, but Kuzon knew the Fire Nation had murdered the Air Nomads, and he knew that murder was murder no matter the scale. He knew that murder in some cases could be justified. To kill and claim it had been self-defense, to commit genocide and claim it was for the betterment of the world.</p>
<p>He traced his fingers over the parchment before he stowed it away again carefully, because it was precious.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Aluki sat with him, taking a short break from their training.</p>
<p>Aang flopped backwards into the snow, bending the ice so that he sank deep into the ground in a huge snow-shadow. Aluki laughed, looking down at him from where she stood at the edge of the little crevice he’d made in his own shape, and kicked a tuft of snow onto his face. He spluttered, and floated out, closing up the snow-shadow with a sweeping motion.</p>
<p>“Watch this,” she said, twisting her feet and moved her hand up in a little pointed motion, like pulling a string. An ice statue of herself formed, grand and stoic, one hand raised, the other grasping a spear. Aang gaped – it looked like an Avatar statue from the Air Temple Sanctuary.</p>
<p>“That’s amazing!” he said, hand on his forehead.</p>
<p>Aluki dusted her hands off. “That’s how they make all the statues up north.”</p>
<p>“You used to live in the Northern Water Tribe, right?” Aang asked.</p>
<p>She shook her head, sitting again on her bench. It was light enough to see by, a nearly full moon high in the sky, and the horizon lightening at the equinox drew near. “Not me, but my dad used to live there when he was a kid,” she said. “My Gran moved us down here way before I was born, so I’m a southerner, through and through,” she said proudly.</p>
<p>“How come you guys moved all the way across the world?” he asked, sitting in the snow.</p>
<p>“A fair number of people from up north move down this way,” she said, shrugging. “Everyone says that the Northern Tribe is greater, stronger, more beautiful. They have statues and indoor waterfalls and those cool waterways, you know? But my Grandad told me they’re different over there. Rigid, traditional.” Aluki shook her head.</p>
<p>“That’s not the nature of water, though. Water changes, moves. Aaju traveled up there once, when she was nineteen or so, on a trade envoy. She wasn’t our chief then, but she was well-respected, most everyone liked her. She said she went up there and the men tried to stiff her on beluga-walrus ivory, and when they found out she wasn’t married she got a proposal from someone she didn’t even know. Never mind that we’d already been dating for two years by then, it’s just… very strange and political over there.”</p>
<p>Aang hummed. “I’ve never understood that,” he said.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>He waved his hand. “Marriage. Like, I get it with people like you and Aaju, who love each other, but marriage for other reasons.”</p>
<p>“Air Nomads don’t marry?” she asked curiously. Aang shook his head.</p>
<p>“Not really. It’s rare, only if you really want to, or if you’re in love with someone who’s not an Air Nomad.”</p>
<p>Aluki twisted her lips. “I’m not sure I’d like that,” she said, staring off into the horizon. “Love and marriage should be based on devotion and commitment – if your spouse won’t stick by you, then who will?”</p>
<p>Aang shrugged. “Lots of people. Friends, family. Your spouse, too, but if you can count on the other people you love without marrying them, I don’t see why a husband or wife should be different.”</p>
<p>“What the fuck?” Aluki said, standing.</p>
<p>Aang frowned, looking up at her. “Was that rude? I didn’t think that was rude,” he said, confusion written across his face.</p>
<p>“No, not that.” She pointed out towards the horizon, where the faint glow of lingering dawn silhouetted a few shapes, moving strangely and unnaturally across the ice. “That.”</p>
<p>Aang stood, squinting out into the distance. Faintly, he could hear yelling on the wind. One of the figures was leaning heavily on a two-pronged fishing spear, its head haloed white.</p>
<p>His eyes widened with the realization. “Oh no,” he breathed, turning to Aluki. She had clearly come to the same conclusion, her hand over her mouth. She shouted a small group walking by and pointed at the figures on the horizon.</p>
<p>They ran out to meet the fishermen, who stumbled and shook stiffly. Ice had frozen their parkas into something solid, and the sheen of frost cracked as they walked. Aluki placed herself under the arm of one of the men, and Aang clutched his arm on the other side. Two others had gathered one of the other fishermen and were carrying him, and an older man lent himself to be leaned on by the third fisherman.</p>
<p>“Get Pikta!” Aluki shouted at two young boys who were hovering uncertainly near the opening in the wall. The kids ran off towards the healing hut, and as they helped the fishermen through town, Aang heard the cries and exclamations as people looked and saw their comrades, half frozen and struggling to move. A few people ran over and helped lift and carry them, rushing towards the healing hut.</p>
<p>Pikta was moving deftly, gathering supplies and barking orders to her assistants, and three stations had been cleared, surrounded by small pools of water that was cloudy and white-tinged. The three fishermen were deposited on the platforms, and Aang watched as Pikta moved, taking over the center platform, with two other healers handling the remaining fishermen.</p>
<p>Aang stepped out of the way as they began to work, melting the ice with a touch and peeling away the damp garments to reveal hands and feet gone black and swollen.</p>
<p>Aang thought back to what Aaju had said, when Gyatso was still being healed of his burn – how strange that they should look the same. Before he could think too hard about it, Aluki took him by the shoulder and steered him towards the door.</p>
<p>He gave her a confused look, but she bustled him along towards the giant building in the center of town.</p>
<p>“We need to find Aaju, to let her know what happened.”</p>
<p>Aang nodded, and she nudged him towards the building.</p>
<p>“Check there, if you find her tell her what happened and tell her I sent you.”</p>
<p>“Got it,” he said, rushing towards the central building. He ran inside, and saw a few people gathered around a large map, intricately detailed with ocean currents and paths, while the land masses were colored solid and unlabeled.</p>
<p>They looked up when he ran in.</p>
<p>“I’m looking for Chief Aaju, it’s an emergency!” he said.</p>
<p>“What’s an emergency?”</p>
<p>Aang turned and saw Aaju walking up behind him. He pointed off towards the healing hut. “Some of the fishermen – I don’t know what happened but there was an accident and they’re freezing. Aluki told me to come get you.”</p>
<p>She needed no further explanation. She set off towards the healing hut, Aang walking briskly beside her.</p>
<p>“How many?”</p>
<p>“Three,” Aang said. Aaju frowned. “We set eight people out to fish this morning, only three are back?”</p>
<p>“That’s all I saw. I don’t know exactly what happened, but the men – their hands -,”</p>
<p>“Frostbite?” she cut him off.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Damn.”</p>
<p>She swept into the healing hut, and the people parted for her like a rock in a stream. She looked over the three men, who were being tended to by the healers. Aang watched curiously as the water took on a slightly pink color, barely there, as they moved over the blackened limbs. He grimaced as they groaned in pain – it looked <em>awful</em>.</p>
<p>One of the men began struggling to sit up - the healer gently pushed him down, but he struggled still. Aaju saw him and made her way over and stationed herself at the end of the healing pool.</p>
<p>“Alignak. Tell me what happened,” she said. He settled back down as she approached.</p>
<p>“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Alignak said, sounding stunned. “It was a storm like you wouldn’t believe. We couldn’t sail, couldn’t hear each other over the wind. And then the other boat capsized – the wind stripped away our outer paneling and we started taking on water. It was only because we were next to a floe that we were able to jump on and get out of the water. The others… they just sank.” He looked up at Aaju, bewildered.</p>
<p>“I don’t understand,” she said softly, more to herself than to the fisherman. “We’ve had no indications that a storm was coming.”</p>
<p>“They just sank,” he repeated. “It came out of nowhere... it was like we were being attacked.”</p>
<p>Aaju placed a calming hand on his leg. Then her eyes widened. “Perhaps this was not a natural storm?” she asked him.</p>
<p>Alignak struggled to sit up again, but the healer placed a hand on his shoulder, easily keeping him down. “I’ve been in a lot of storms. I don’t know <em>what </em>it was.”</p>
<p>She patted his knee. “We’re going to take care of this. You rest. Nanouk?”</p>
<p>The healer nodded at her, and Aaju turned and steered Aang out of the healing hut.</p>
<p>“Let’s find Aluki,” she said to him. “I have a plan.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“This is a matter of the spirits! Who else but the Avatar could solve this?” Aaju said heatedly.</p>
<p>Gyatso frowned, infuriatingly serene. “In what respect is Aang, untrained and inexperienced, well-equipped to solve this problem?”</p>
<p>Aaju rolled her eyes. “Don’t be obtuse, you know as well as I do that the Avatar is more than capable of handling this.”</p>
<p>Aang watched them, swiveling his head back and forth as they traded sharp remarks.</p>
<p>Aluki nudged him with her elbow, then leaned in close. “<em>Do</em> you know how to convene with the spirits?” she asked.</p>
<p>Aang frowned. “Not really. I’ve never done it before. But…” he twiddled his thumbs. “I suppose I have to learn at some point, don’t I?”</p>
<p>She nodded. “I might have an idea, if you’re interested?”</p>
<p>He thought to Alignak, and his blackened fingers, the other fishermen lost in the gale. “I have to try,” he answered her, and cast another look to Gyatso and Aaju, who were still arguing. Aluki led him quietly outside, and they didn’t even notice.</p>
<p>Once outside, Aluki took on her purposeful stride, Aang behind her.</p>
<p>“So, uh… what is your idea?”</p>
<p>“Our shaman once was able to visit the Spirit World, and he’s really quite knowledgeable about it. Aaju thinks he’s a little hokey, but if anyone can help you, he can.”</p>
<p>“He visited the Spirit World?” Aang asked excitedly.</p>
<p>“Yes, many years ago. But he still knows more about it than anyone else in the tribe.”</p>
<p>“Did he say what it was like?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “He’s never spoken about it. He was lost to us for many days while he journeyed there, like he was sleeping. When he woke up, or came back, I guess, he went out into the wilderness for a month. He was different when he returned. Sometimes I think he left part of himself there.”</p>
<p>Aang swallowed nervously as Aluki led him to a small igloo, hardly tall enough to stand up in for someone full-grown. What if he got into the Spirit World and couldn’t get back out?</p>
<p>She brought him inside, and he looked up. The domed ceiling was carved ice, showing stars and constellations. He could skim the peak with his fingers, if he stretched. It was strange that this was the shaman’s place, in a tiny hut towards the front of the village, unprotected by the walls.</p>
<p>He looked around curiously. A tiny fire, more like the smoking remains of driftwood, burned in the center, ringed four times by smooth, flat stones. Earthenware pots of water flanked the entrance, and an imposing man, broad with a wave of dark hair, sat with his back to them. Aluki stepped forward.</p>
<p>“Ikh?” she began, before he rose a hand slowly.</p>
<p>“I was waiting for you, Avatar Aang.”</p>
<p>He spoke in a husky rumble and turned to face them. He was younger than Aang expected of a great spiritual leader. All the elders he’d ever known had been… well, elderly. This man, Ikh, couldn’t have been older than forty. He gestured for them to sit, and so Aang sat across the fire pit from him, with Aluki on his right. Now sitting on the same level as him, the man seemed even more imposing. He wore two braided lengths of hair that dangled from each temple, and his eyes were dark brown so as to almost look black.</p>
<p>Ikh regarded him for a moment before speaking. “You seek the spirits, Avatar.”</p>
<p>Aang nodded. “Aluki said you’ve been to the Spirit World before. I need to get there. Can you help me?”</p>
<p>“The Avatar is the great bridge between the mortal world and the Spirit World. Besides Avatar, very few are capable of leaping between the worlds, and when they do, they come back changed. Reaching the Spirit World can be difficult even for you.” Ikh paused.</p>
<p>He turned and grabbed something behind him. When he turned back to face them, he held a modest-sized drum of bleached-white sealskin and his left hand grasped the velveteen antler of an arctic fox-caribou.</p>
<p>“Meditate on what you wish to achieve.”</p>
<p>Aang settled into a meditative position, fists pressed together at the dip beneath his ribs, and he focused on his breathing. He closed his eyes, and Ikh began to drum, a simple thrumming beat like the sound of a heart.</p>
<p>
  <em>Thump-thump thump.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Thump-thump thump.</em>
</p>
<p>He took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the rhythm of his breathing and tune the drumbeat out. Usually he meditated in silence, and the drumming was strange, and threw him off. Instead of turning inward to clear his mind, he was focusing on the drum.</p>
<p>
  <em>Thump-thump thump. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Thump-thump thump. </em>
</p>
<p>His breathing moved in time with it of its own accord, and the drumming no longer seemed outward and disruptive, but seemed to hum through his bones and felt like something that emanated from within him.</p>
<p><em>Thump-thump thump</em>.</p>
<p>
  <em>Thump-thump thump.</em>
</p>
<p>Silence.</p>
<p>Aang opened his eyes, concentration broken. He gasped, standing quickly, looking out at the orange sky and swampy water that surrounded him. Off in the distance, he saw the silhouette of a great elephant stark against the foggy sky.</p>
<p>“I’m in the Spirit World.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Aluki had closed her eyes at the drumbeat, the dark hazy room, but she saw the light through her eyelids and looked to see the Avatar sitting still in his meditative position, glowing softly along the lines of his tattoos, the light spilling over his cheeks from where his eyes were half-lidded. She began to stand, alarmed, but when she looked over to Ikh, he was watching calmly, continuing the rhythm. If there was something wrong, he would let her know. She settled back down, but kept her eyes open, trained on Aang, ready to act at the slightest indication of danger.</p>
<p>She considered going to retrieve Aaju and Gyatso but decided against it. They would only bicker about her bringing Aang here, perhaps disrupting his journey in the Spirit World.</p>
<p>No, this was a journey he had to take. She could only sit here, be here, just in case. Aluki watched and waited patiently for something to change.</p>
<p>Nearly an hour in, the sheet at the front of the room was swept open. Aluki was immediately on guard, but relaxed when Aaju and Gyatso stepped in. Aaju took in the scene, the child Avatar lit up and convening with the spirits and smiled smugly at Gyatso.</p>
<p>Gyatso, though it was plainly apparent on his face that he was unsettled by the situation, simply settled into the seat next to his charge and joined Aluki in her vigil. Ikh had not once faltered in his rhythm.</p>
<p>All they could do was wait.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He walked aimlessly. The wind buffeted him, and he discovered quickly that he could not bend it in this place. It was strange, mostly outside with small pools of water and mud, great trees, tall cliffs and caves, but every so often he would walk in the area between trees where there would be a snatch of hallway, of almost-inside, which would be painted with mandalas or carved with animals.</p>
<p>Aang had no idea where he was going, or what he was looking for. The trees and the plants were bent by the strong gusts, and so he decided to walk into the wind. Maybe something was causing it? Maybe the same thing that was causing the storms in his world.</p>
<p>As he walked, he would hear odd sounds, like a crying baby or the flash of fire as something ignited all at once without ever seeing where it came from.</p>
<p>“Hello?” he called, hands cupped around his mouth. “Hello? It’s the Avatar! Is there someone here I can talk to?”</p>
<p>Above him, he heard one of the tree branches shake suddenly, and he looked up. A chattering hog-monkey sat on the branch directly over his head, its curious blue face staring at him, unblinking. Aang smiled at it.</p>
<p>“Hi! Can you talk? Or show me where I can find someone?”</p>
<p>The hog-monkey’s face grew angry, and it screamed at him, leaning down so that it dribbled spit on Aang’s head, then disappeared into the branches of the tree. Aang sullenly wiped the spit off his head.</p>
<p>“You could’ve just said no,” he grumbled, continuing his trek into the gale.  </p>
<p>He walked uphill, sliding in the mud. The Spirit World hummed and whispered with life, but he saw very little of it. The wind was getting stronger as he walked into it, though, so maybe that was something. He had to be getting closer. A sudden, very strong gust swept him off his feet, and without bending he couldn’t just recover his bearings. Instead, he slid down the muddy hill, and landed with a splat at the bottom.</p>
<p>“Ugh! Where is everybody?” Aang griped, standing up halfway before sliding in the mud again, falling to his knees gracelessly.</p>
<p>“Ew,” he said, looking at his hands. The mud was somehow slimier than normal, and accumulated like a paste.</p>
<p>“Hello, Aang,” a smooth voice said from behind him. Aang gasped and turned, starting to stand again, but falling backwards. He looked up into the face of Roku, shimmering and opaque.</p>
<p>“Avatar Roku!” he cried.</p>
<p>“I was not expecting you so soon. But these are extraordinary times.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I guess they are.”</p>
<p>Roku’s image shuddered in the wind. He gave Aang a small, sad smile. “Many dangers lurk in the world for you. Be prepared to flee, Aang. You will not have the time I had, and Sozin grows more powerful each day. If this war goes on unchecked, the world will be thrown into devastation. He has already struck a killing blow.”</p>
<p>Aang blinked rapidly. “Right,” he said uncomfortably. His people’s murder as simply the first of many casualties made his skin crawl. He stood carefully in the slick mud, but still had to look up to meet Roku’s gaze.</p>
<p>“There’s a terrible storm, and it’s killed people from the Water Tribe. They think it’s a spirit, and they want me to stop it, but I don’t know how.”</p>
<p>Roku didn’t answer straightaway but looked to where the wind came from. “So it is here as it is there. Sozin violated the balance, and now the world faces the consequences. I cannot tell you what to do – I am not privy to much beyond you and our shared lives, Aang. But I assure you, these winds are felt in all corners of the earth.”</p>
<p>Aang furrowed his brow. “Can I see what – or who – is causing this?”</p>
<p>Roku shook his head. “Who causes this is unknown and does not wish to be known – they have fled into the mortal world. You will have to seek your own solution. What I can tell you is this: you must defeat Sozin before he can further devastate the balance of the world. His is not a fire that burns hot and fast, but one that burns slowly and surely, that will consume the whole world.” His face softened slightly. “When you return, tell our friend that he was righteous, in what he thought of me.”</p>
<p>Roku’s image flickered again with a gust of wind. “Our time draws to an end.”</p>
<p>Aang frowned. “Wait – I still need to stop these storms, and I need to master the elements, and I need to defeat the Fire Lord, but I don’t know <em>how </em>to do that!”</p>
<p>“You will know what needs to be done. It is only whether you do it, or not. Be careful who you trust, Aang.” Roku, at that point, was nothing more than a few defining features – the sleeve of his robe, the length of his beard, the line of his nose. Aang stepped forward, but Roku reached out and placed his hand on Aang’s forehead. He could hardly see Roku, but the pressure was tangible. Suddenly, the world faded to black.</p>
<p>
  <em>Thump-thump thump. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Thump-thump thump.</em>
</p>
<p>He opened his eyes.</p>
<p>Aluki, Gyatso, and Aaju were all crowded around him, peering into his face intently.</p>
<p>“Ah!” He startled backwards. Ikh still drummed. “Everyone’s in here,” Aang said stupidly.</p>
<p>“You took too long, they figured out what we were doing,” Aluki said, shrugging.</p>
<p>“What did you learn?” Aaju asked, cutting straight to the point.</p>
<p>Aang stood. “I need to go into the storm,” he said to her.</p>
<p>“Aang, wait,” Gyatso implored.</p>
<p>“I can take you there,” Aaju spoke.</p>
<p>“The sooner the better,” Aluki said. Aang turned to face Ikh, offering his arm. Ikh shook it from where he still sat, and smiled. “You were much quicker than I was, Avatar. Mortal eyes will mislead you.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for your help, Master Ikh,” Aang said.</p>
<p>Ikh dipped his head, and the group shuffled out of the hut. Aluki laid her hand on Aang’s shoulder and guided him to the large house he and Gyatso and Appa had been situated in, telling him it was finally time for him to trade the light airbender robes for something that could handle the cold, leaving Aaju and Gyatso behind.</p>
<p>Aaju bumped their shoulders together.</p>
<p>“Don’t think I don’t understand, Gyatso. But this has to happen.”</p>
<p>“I am well aware of what is expected of him,” Gyatso said, the slightest accusation hanging on his words.</p>
<p>She looked at him sideways. “The Avatar is fortunate to have such a dedicated guardian.”</p>
<p>Aang and Aluki emerged, Aang dwarfed in a massive blue parka with the hood pulled up, his face small in the thick halo of fur, gloved hangs wrapped around his glider.</p>
<p>Gyatso frowned. “I do not protect him because he is the Avatar.”</p>
<p>“You shelter him,” Aaju accused, hushed as their companions drew closer.</p>
<p>Gyatso straightened and pulled his hood over his head. “I know.”</p>
<p>Aluki and Aang returned to the group, and they set out beyond the walls of the village, towards the ever-light horizon, the soft, powdery snow flying across the tundra. Aluki moved forward, and began to walk next to Aaju, their arms linking easily. Gyatso fell back and walked next to Aang.</p>
<p>“I talked to Roku,” Aang said, after a few silent minutes. “He told me to tell you something.”</p>
<p>“What did he have to say?”</p>
<p>Aang frowned. “He said, ‘tell our friend he was righteous in what he thought of me,’” Aang replied, confusion evident in his voice.</p>
<p>The words hit like a punch. Roku had been such an idealist. He believed people would want to do what was right, had believed that love and kindness were key, had been unrestrained in his mercy and highly restrained in his power. Gyatso remembered how deeply he had connected with Air Nomad philosophy when he came to the temple. Now, beyond the veil of death, he was extending his hand out once more, in guilt or in sorrow. Gyatso would not indulge in that righteous anger, even with his blessing – not when Roku’s ideals had been turned viciously against him, not when Aang shared that same worldview. How alike they were.</p>
<p>He swallowed thickly – even in finding his friend gone but not lost, the grief still could overwhelm. Gyatso placed a gloved hand on Aang’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he said simply. The wind picked up as they walked further into the tundra, the soft light of the village blinking out behind them.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The wind whipped viciously, throwing the snow up and making it difficult to see. The roar of the air carried an otherworldly voice, yelling out wordlessly. Even knowing how to keep himself warm, even in the thick parkas of the Water Tribe, Aang felt the bitter chill of the wind. Like heat lightning, every so often the gale of wind and snow would flash blue.</p>
<p>It was the eye of the storm, its arms reaching into the southern seas, stripping wood from boats and sinking ships. Aluki hardened the snow before them, making it easier to walk, but as they drew closer, the ice crystals were torn from the ground and tossed violently in the air. Aaju leaned heavily on Aluki’s arm and strained to be heard over the wind.</p>
<p>“This is as far as we can go – it is unsafe to go further.”</p>
<p>Aang looked into the wind, the swirl of snow – in a flash of blue light he saw a distant silhouette. This gale had sunk Water Tribe ships, torn up ice floes, and Roku said it was happening all over the world. Aang knew whatever spirit was causing this wouldn’t rest until he did something. He handed his staff to Aluki and began to walk further into the fray, breaking from the group.</p>
<p>A hand grasped his wrist. He turned and saw Gyatso staring at him, eyes wide. He shook his head vehemently.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to do this, Aang!” he shouted over the wind.</p>
<p>His gut reaction was to feel relief, to sink into the shelter that Gyatso had always offered him. But the wind howled and lashed at his face, and he knew if he did that, he could never live with himself. He had always learned how to rise above his obstacles. He supposed it was finally time that he learned to navigate through them, instead.</p>
<p>Gently, Aang pulled his hand from Gyatso’s grasp. “Yes. I do,” he replied, turning back to the storm.</p>
<p>Gyatso’s arm dropped limply to his side, and Aaju wrapped her hand around his bicep, as if to hold him back. They watched as Aang walked into the storm, losing sight of the blue parka, then losing sight of his shape altogether.</p>
<p>Aang trudged further into the snow, following the wordless scream on the wind, his feet moving of their own accord to an unknown place. The blue light flashed, and he saw the silhouette again, much closer this time. It towered over him, a four-winged bird, its sharp, massive beaked turned skywards. Aang fell backwards into the snow, holding back a scream. He watched as the dark shape approached and he stood shakily. It opened its beak, and as the lightning flashed again, it screeched at him, deafening and strange and unnatural. He listened, bracing himself against the gust of wind that accompanied the scream and felt a painful swell of grief in his chest. He looked up and saw the bird’s broad face, its four wings flapping uselessly.</p>
<p>The scream it had unleashed was tortured. Aang stood taller, looking up towards the spirit with sad eyes.</p>
<p>“Pehar.”</p>
<p>At his name, the spirit brought its large head down, looking at Aang with grey eyes. As it drew closer, Aang could see the blue of its face and the white of its body, the blue ending at a point between its eyes. It crooned softly, but its size meant the sound was still close to deafening, sending a rumble through the ground. At the point where its feet met the snow, soft light glowed. Aang held a hand up to the honeyeater, the spirit of the sky and the wind, whose children were dead and slaughtered.</p>
<p>He felt his tears roll down his cheek, the freezing wind making them cutting and sharp.</p>
<p>“I feel your grief, Pehar,” he said. At some point during the gale, the hood of his parka had fallen, and Pehar brought his large head down, pushing past Aang’s hand, and the tip of his beak pressed softly into the center of the arrow on Aang’s forehead. When he did, Aang did not see the honeyeater any longer, but the same Pehar who had been painted in the shrine in the temple. His face was like a human’s, wide but no longer serene. His expression was severe and broken and his eyes searched Aang’s face for a long moment, the wind still ripping wildly at his clothes. Pehar threw out his four arms and the gale ceased very suddenly, the snow falling silently to the ground. Aang dropped to his knees and looking up he only saw the half-full moon, the spirit gone. In the moonlight, a gentle wind that he did not command brought him up and set him on his feet, brushing his face before it dissipated.</p>
<p>He turned and saw the others, not so far away as he’d thought.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Aang sat next to Gyatso, cross-legged as the people streamed into the large hall. As they waited for everyone to arrive, a few people, including Alignak, approached and talked to him about Pehar’s storm. Alignak, unlike many of the others who thanked or congratulated him, sat quite close, and asked many questions about the spirits, about how to pacify them. He seemed genuinely interested in the spiritual part of being the Avatar. Aang thought that was a nice divergence from normalcy, where most people simply thought he was fascinating for the simple fact that he could bend other elements. He was shooed away, eventually, as Aaju and Aluki took their seats next to Aang and Gyatso. They were centered and forward in the crowd, a wonderful location to hear everything, but not set up and apart from their cohorts.</p>
<p>The hall was full, and the chatter swelled and became like white noise until the storyteller, Tulok, walked onstage. The voices fell silent, and as nearly the whole of the village was gathered, the silence was eerie and total, and the absence of sound hummed like a noise of its own.</p>
<p>Tulok stood without speaking for several moments. Several of the small children leaned forward in anticipation, and Aang held his breath waiting for the story to begin.</p>
<p>“In a time long passed, the time of our ancestors, there was a young man who was named Kamik. Kamik was a skilled leader, but longed to be as accomplished as his father, who was a powerful waterbender and the chief of the village. Kamik himself could not bend but sought to help his people in any way that he could.”</p>
<p>Aaju and Aluki, along with many of the adults in the tribe were listening casually, having heard the story many times before. Aang watched Tulok intently as if he could glean more from the story from looking closely. He leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees, like the little children, having never heard the story before.</p>
<p>“Kamik was a young shaman, charged with protecting and preserving the spirits, who in the times long passed, roamed the tundra freely. In the darkest winter of Kamik’s twenty years, there was a great wailing from the village, as children began to disappear in their sleep, in the morning discovered missing when their parents woke, finding only the tracks of a polar bear dog leading away from their homes. The darkest of months had sent the seals away into the ocean, and the moon was vanished behind a veil of death. Only by stopping the wild beast could the village be saved.”</p>
<p>A few of the little kids huddled into their parents’ sides, casting suspicious glances around as if a polar bear dog would come up and eat them at any moment.</p>
<p>“And so, Kamik went to the edge of the ocean, and asked, “How can I destroy this creature?” He begged the spirits for an answer, but none would be revealed to him. In the silence of the spirits, Kamik returned home, and placed out offerings in front of every house with a child, so that the creature might be appeased, or the spirits would take mercy. His father asked him, perhaps, if the village done some offense to the spirits, but Kamik scoffed at the very idea and assured his father that he could protect the people in this respect.</p>
<p>“In the night, however, as he lay with his wife, he heard the sound of soft snow being crushed underfoot and woke to see the polar bear dog looming over the cradle of his young son – he realized that it was no mortal creature, but its aura glowed. It was a spirit incarnate, and one Kamik had been charged with protecting and honoring.</p>
<p>“Kamik stood, shouting and waving his hands at the beast, hoping to resolve the situation peacefully. The spirit was startled, and snatched up his babe in its massive jaws, fleeing the village. He wielded a machete and gave it chase, until it disappeared into the darkness and he could no longer hear the cries of his son.</p>
<p>“He wept bitterly in the snow, the cold bitter and unyielding, and forsake the spirits, for he believed they had transgressed against him. Kamik felt the heavy burden of despair. The darkness was impenetrable, and no moon glowed to guide him home. Kamik knelt under the weight of his grief but gathered his courage. He stood, and sought the distant horizon, where the burrows of animals dotted the landscape. He trekked through the deep snow, only in his sleeping clothes, and found the great den of the polar bear dog. It sat silent, and his infant son was nowhere to be found.”</p>
<p>A few of the children gasped at Tulok’s words. Gyatso wiped his eyes surreptitiously. Aaju snickered at him.</p>
<p>“Kamik was overcome with his anger and grief, and with a massive cry, attacked the polar bear dog. He slayed the spirit he had sworn to protect and violated his sacred vows. The great spirit laid still and silent and frozen. And Kamik looked upon it and wept again, for he had failed in his duty to protect the spirits, the village, and his son – he had not sought the council of the spirits in how to appease and live in harmony with them, but only sought destruction.</p>
<p>“It was on that night that the spirits fled from the mortal realm, and we have had to live in separation from them ever since. Only on the darkest of nights or the lightest of days, on the rising and the setting of the sun can the spirits cross over to our world again.”</p>
<p>Tulok bowed his head, and after a beat, raised it again. When he did, the villagers began to cheer and applaud. Aang joined in but frowned. The story had ended abruptly, and tragically.</p>
<p>It was so unlike the stories he’d been raised on, the tale of the puma and the pear tree, or the legend of the nun who was first taught by the bison. He wondered if it was true, if this or something like it was the reason for the separation of mortals and spirits.</p>
<p>When the story ended, people began to stand and mill around, talking. Aaju grinned at Gyatso.</p>
<p>“I didn’t peg you as the sentimental type,” she said.</p>
<p>Gyatso laid a hand on his heart. “Sentimental? I merely have a healthy appreciation for storytelling.”</p>
<p>Aaju smirked. “Sure thing.”</p>
<p>“What is the occasion?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Tomorrow’s the equinox,” Aluki answered. “The sun’s going to rise. We’ll have our dawn celebration, and we’ll tell more stories, have a feast. It’s fun!”</p>
<p>Aang grinned. Normally, around this time of year, they’d have the dancing festival, and he’d nearly forgotten. Even when traveling, they still celebrated, singing and dancing together. A celebration sounded fun, and he’d <em>missed </em>the sun. It never really felt right waking up and going to sleep all in darkness, even though the horizon had lightened significantly with dusk over the last few weeks.</p>
<p>“That sounds awesome!” he said excitedly.</p>
<p>Aluki held her hand up. “Oh, no. You’re gonna train tomorrow just like any other day,” she said.</p>
<p>His face fell, and she burst into laughter. “Nah, I’m just kidding.”</p>
<p>“You are?”</p>
<p>“No,” she said, the mirth disappearing from her face to be replaced by her stony teacher mask. “You do have to train tomorrow. We cannot miss even one day.”</p>
<p>“Wait.”</p>
<p>“You make it too easy,” she said, grinning again.</p>
<p>“I can’t tell when you’re joking!” he laughed.</p>
<p>“I’m joking. It’s a lot of fun, you guys are going to have a great time,” she said, nodding to Gyatso as well.</p>
<p>He smiled too. “We look forward to it.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The whole village smelled like roasting caribou. It was a little nauseating, but it was the tradition to cook all the meat for the equinox celebration in the central fire of the village, to signify the sharing of prosperity during the summer with the whole community. It was ancient, and a wonderfully community-oriented custom, especially when coupled with the laughter from kids as they listened to Tulok talk about the fox that had nearly stolen the caribou leg out from under Tagak’s nose.</p>
<p>The sun had peeked over the horizon at some point during the activity, and the festival would continue until it had fully risen.</p>
<p>Aang was vaguely listening to some of Tulok’s stories, but many of them involved hunting, and there were only so many dead animals Aang could handle at once.</p>
<p>The entire village was celebrating. Even Appa had been roped into festivities – he was laying with his head resting between his two front feet as a gaggle of little kids fed him seaweed and berries, giggling and flinching away every time he took a berry from their hands. His eyes were half-lidded like they always were when he ate too much and had to take a nap.</p>
<p>Aang looked around. A couple of kids his age were pulling fish from the massive piles that had yet to be roasted, and were passing them around, with one girl standing innocently next to them, clearly a lookout. Aang grinned and walked over. The girl who was handing out the fish had her back to him as he approached.</p>
<p>“What are you guys doing?” he asked. She startled and dropped the fish she was holding.</p>
<p>“Avatar!” she said standing up. “Nothing. Just… checking the fish,” she lied.</p>
<p>He tilted his head, tamping down a smile. Whatever this was, he wanted in. “For what?” he asked curiously.</p>
<p>“Uh, foxes.”</p>
<p>“In the fish?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” she said nodding. A couple of the other kids behind her were also nodding, backing her up. “Foxes… they get in the fish, and then all you’re left with is fish head, blech,” she said, rambling.</p>
<p>“Can I help?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” she said, looking panicked. She sighed and hung her head, her two long braids swinging with the motion.</p>
<p>“Well, uh. We’re not checking the fish. We’re going penguin-sledding, but please don’t tell, cause the adults hate when we go penguin sledding because it makes the flock move, but please don’t tell, Avatar.”</p>
<p>Aang grinned. “I won’t tell! Can I come penguin sledding with you guys?”</p>
<p>She blinked. “Really?”</p>
<p>“Yeah! I’ve always wanted to!”</p>
<p>“Okay,” she said, surprised. “Wow, the Avatar is going penguin sledding with us,” she said to herself.</p>
<p>“You can call me Aang, if you want,” he offered.</p>
<p>“I’m Tapeesa!”</p>
<p>He looked to the pile of fish she’d been digging in. “So, what do you need the fish for? Can’t you just go up them?”</p>
<p>Tapeesa shook her head. “You’ll never catch one like that. They waddle, but they waddle <em>fast</em>. You gotta make them come to you. Here,” she said, handing him a few fish. He tucked them in his sleeves, thanking her.</p>
<p>She looked back at the dozen or so kids who were milling about.</p>
<p>“Does everyone have their fish?” she asked. Various murmurs of assent, not too loud to avoid being noticed by the adults.</p>
<p>“Alright, let’s go!” she said, leading them towards the outskirts of the village. Aang followed, grinning. It was nice to do something silly and fun with kids his age, instead of the near-constant training he’d been doing since he was told he was the Avatar.</p>
<p>It reminded him of before that, with his friends at the temple, and Bumi, and Kuzon. As soon as they broke away from the village proper, all the kids broke into a run, and he joined them, the cold air burning pleasantly in his lungs.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Another announcement, less important because it was made by the mayor, at sunset.</p>
<p>Anyone suspected of being from the Air Nation or sympathetic to the Air Nation is to be reported to the authorities. Anyone who harbors, aids, or fails to report an airbender is guilty of treason.</p>
<p>It made sense to Kuzon, at least, that there were some airbenders who lived. Aang had said most people didn’t live at the temples, just the children and the monks and nuns. Aang lived there, and Kuzon had long since accepted that he was dead, but the nomads would likely have escaped that same fate.</p>
<p>The crowd, however, murmured nervously and angrily at the idea that there were still Air Nomads around.</p>
<p>A young man next to him shook his head. “That’s awful,” he said to Kuzon, tutting.</p>
<p>Kuzon nodded. “Yeah.” Waited the appropriate beat as his simple mind struggled to process the man’s words.</p>
<p>“What is?” he asked, innocently, stupidly, like a bargaining chip.</p>
<p>“The Air Soldiers,” the man said like it was obvious, like Kuzon was an idiot. He looked Kuzon up and down. “Watch yourself if you ever see one. They snatch kids like you up left and right.”</p>
<p>He didn’t respond, pursing his lips to keep from scowling. This guy had probably never met an airbender before, but he still spouted off all these ridiculous rumors like he’d seen it happen a million times.</p>
<p>“What is wrong with you people?” a voice shouted into the crowd. Kuzon whipped his head over to one of the low walls surrounding the square, where a woman was standing looking out over the sea of faces. She wore her hair up in a massive bun, and her clothes were fine, embroidered with gold thread. Her hands shook, and her face was red with anger.</p>
<p>“Have you no honor? Have you all lost your minds?” She pointed towards the balcony, where the mayor still stood, flanked by guards.</p>
<p>“They are <em>lying </em>to you, and you’re all falling for it! Can’t you see? Doesn’t anyone see?” she asked, her voice taking on a hysterical note. That frustration, that alienation, Kuzon knew well. Knowing what’s true but everyone believing and speaking nonsense as if it was truth, as if everyone who knew what was real was crazy and traitorous.</p>
<p>Her questions hung in the air for a silent moment, the crowd stunned. Kuzon looked up at her, clearly a noble, educated woman, saying what he believed. That she, too, had been passive and bitter in this crowd made him wonder. How many others knew the truth, who were just staying silent because they didn’t know how to seek each other out?</p>
<p>That rush of relief that thought commanded in him burned in his chest. She was like him. There were others, he <em>knew it</em>. He took a breath to shout, to say something, to offer his support and then somebody else would shout out and another until they were too many to command – and it rushed out all at once as a soldier grabbed her arm and yanked her down from her ledge, dragging her viciously and she kicked and screamed and begged for an ally, someone who knew the truth.</p>
<p>Kuzon clenched his jaw, averted his eyes. His nation would not hear truth. They had violently rejected it. And they would weed out people like her, people like him, until only the lies remained.</p>
<p>The young man next to him shook his head at her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Again,” Aluki said from where she sat. Aang groaned and flopped backwards into a snowbank. Gyatso laughed from where he sat next to Aluki, and Aang raised his head to pout at him. Traitor.</p>
<p>Aluki snapped her fingers. “This needs to be muscle memory. I want you to be able to do this in your sleep.”</p>
<p>“Why? Why would I ever have to do this in my sleep?”</p>
<p>“You never know. Go again.” Aang groaned and grumbled as he got back to his feet but took his bending stance. A black snowflake landed on his nose and he went cross-eyed looking at it. He stood from his bending stance and held out a hand. Black snow piled neatly in his palm, melting into grey water, and he frowned towards where Gyatso and Aluki sat. Gyatso was also holding out his hand, and Aluki had stood staring out towards the wall of the village.</p>
<p>The sun had finally risen and would not set for many months. Since the equinox celebration, the village had been scarcely populated, as the traders went out into the southern Earth Kingdom and the hunting parties set out for days at a time. Only a few others milling around looked around at the greying snow, bewildered.</p>
<p>As nice as it was to feel the warmth of the sun again after so long without it, it reflected off the snow and made seeing far as difficult as a moonless night. Aang squinted out towards where Aluki was watching but saw nothing besides the haze and the black flecks that began to dot the snow.</p>
<p>He turned back to her.</p>
<p>“Is this supposed to happen?” he asked, though he knew it wasn’t normal. He hoped against logic that this was some symptom of summer in the polar regions, and not the foreboding sign it felt like.</p>
<p>“No…” she said, brow furrowed as she stared out into fog. She frowned, then took a bending stance, and pushed her hands up against the sky, the ground underneath her growing like a tower. She stared out for a minute, Aang and Gyatso staring up at her.</p>
<p>“I can fly Appa around and see if there’s anything out there,” he offered.</p>
<p>Without warning, Aluki collapsed the tower into a pile of snow – she landed with a crunch as her boots met the ground again, and turned to them, her face ashen.</p>
<p>“Fire Nation,” she said grimly. “About two hundred soldiers on foot and about six tanks.” She pointed out at the horizon, and Aang bounded forward a few leaps, straining to see. As he watched, he could see a line in the fog, moving, growing taller and dark as it approached.</p>
<p>“Oh, no.”</p>
<p>He looked around, the village nearly emptied in the busy months. There were maybe a hundred people left, many of them children or old people. With rising horror, he turned back around. Aluki looked worried, determined, but Gyatso, in that muted way of his, was a mirror of the emotions that ran through Aang.</p>
<p>Dread and shock, because the last time this happened their home was destroyed, and the attack had been brutal, and their friends had been killed senselessly. If he listened closely, he could hear the hundreds of footsteps crunching through the snow as they approached.</p>
<p>There was no time to prepare, no escape, no way to stall an entire battalion of troops, which had drawn so close he could see the haze of red as they moved in.</p>
<p>The only option was to stand and fight.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for leaving it like that. I think this story will probably go beyond the four chapters I designated for it, even with the 15k updates. Speaking of which, are these chapters too big? Should I post in smaller increments, like 3-5k? Let me know, I don’t want to dump too much all at once. Now it’s time for Unwanted, Too Long Commentary by the Author.</p>
<p>This is going to be LONG so if you want to skip this, feel free!</p>
<p>This chapter was very fun to write; the Pehar scene was actually written before chapter one got posted. Pehar was meant to serve the same narrative role as Heibai – forcing Aang to confront his spiritual duties as the Avatar and actively take on his responsibilities. Pehar is not mine – he’s an actual spirit of the sky/heavens in the indigenous Tibetan religion of Bon. In the paintings I saw, he was typically depicted with six arms, but I changed it to four in here to represent the nations/elements/air temples/cardinal directions. Heibai was causing destruction because the forest had been burnt down in the show – I figured something as devastating as killing most of an entire people would have similar Spirit World/mortal world repercussions. </p>
<p>Ah, this note is pretty much going to be my works cited page, isn’t it? Ikh the shaman was loosely based off real shamanism traditionally practiced among the Inuit (that scene was also somewhat informed by my Anthropology of Religion class, when our professor had us drum and meditate in a circle for half of class). Ikh is also the only name I gave to anyone from the Water Tribe that was not an Inuit name – it means “great” in Mongolian. </p>
<p>Some of the anti-airbender propaganda in here, specifically the baby-snatching accusations, were meant to echo real-life instances of blood-libel leveled at Jewish people. </p>
<p>The story of Kamik was very, very loosely inspired by “Harpoon of the Hunter” by Markoosie, which was the first novel by an Inuit person written in English. Again, very loosely inspired – I absolutely encourage you guys to go read the real thing! I simply borrowed the name Kamik, and the premise of the village being attacked. </p>
<p>A lot of what I wrote here was inspired by and informed by real-life practices and cultures that I, as a westerner, am not a part of. If there was anything in here that was offensive, appropriative, or insensitive, I want you to let me know! </p>
<p>Moving closer to what I borrowed from the Avatar canon, the Water Tribe village was based off the image of the Southern Water Tribe from the first Fire Nation raids – that is as close as we get in canon to the timeline I’m exploring here. <br/>Additionally, it might seem as though the Fire Nation is moving too fast into the Earth Kingdom, and doesn’t match the pace set in the show, where the conquest took a hundred years. One hundred years is a very long time to fight a war. I believe that at the very beginning of the war, the FN made several great strides into the EK, gaining a big chunk of territory before the borders stabilized a few years in. A century of slow conquest, and minor movements into the countryside leaving major cities cut off from one another until the time of the show when only the major strongholds like Omashu and Ba Sing Se remain. </p>
<p>That’s about it for this note! I hope you have enjoyed this chapter and the next one will be up soon. In the meantime, I’ll be screaming about Aang on tumblr @wildonionhats yes my url is a reference to this fic. Love you guys!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. all is silent but the fluttering door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Small warning for violence and non-graphic descriptions of death/dead bodies. This chapter is a bit serious.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I didn’t see where the chick-foal went ‘cause the chick-foal came to me! The chick-foal said the elephant is wise, and here’s what he said to me-,”</p><p>“Jamyang, <em> stop </em>. You’ve been singing for hours. Please stop.”</p><p>“Palmo says songs are a delight to the wind and a blessing to those who hear them.”</p><p>“I’ve heard it. The wind heard it. I’m going to need you to shut it, or else I’ll lose my mind.”</p><p>“The elephant said that the grapes are blue, and the blue grapes hung in bunches! The hog-monkey ate, and he did not share-,”</p><p>“Jamyang!”</p><p>“-Those sweet blue grapes with me-,”</p><p>“Shut up!”</p><p>“Senge, be kind. Jamyang, do not tease.”</p><p>“Yes, Palmo.”</p><p>“Sorry, Palmo.”</p><p>Palmo turned back to steering at Bya’s head when both girls looked appropriately chastened, and when she did, Jamyang stuck her tongue out at Senge. Senge glared at her but crossed her arms and turned away. They’d be at the temple soon, and then Senge could <em> finally </em>get some alone time. The clouds were thick and dark around them, but they weren’t heavy and cool like rain, just hot and insubstantial. The air current had just crossed with the Badgermole Stream, and soon she’d finally get some time away from Jamyang.</p><p>Senge loved Jamyang, but it was best for both of them to not spend too much time together. At least these long trips allowed Senge a chance to practice her patience (which Palmo claimed was wanting, but who could listen to hours of Blue Grapes and <em> not </em> lose patience?).</p><p>The clouds thinned as they approached the Eastern Air Temple, and Senge sighed in relief. She laid back on the saddle and closed her eyes, but a gasp from Palmo drew her attention. She sat back up.</p><p>There were no bison, no people on gliders. The temple smoked with tiny fires all over, and its face was marred and blackened. Senge covered her mouth, and Jamyang began to cry.</p><p>“What’s that?” Senge asked. “What’s going on?”</p><p>The bridges between the mountains had collapsed in places, dividing the three sections of the temple. As they drew closer, Senge could smell smoke.</p><p>“Palmo?” she asked shakily. Jamyang had scooted over, and was clinging to her arm, head pressed against her shoulder. Palmo startled and looked back at the two girls. She looked stunned and afraid, which sent a cold chill down Senge’s back because Palmo normally handled everything with calm grace. Abruptly, Palmo’s face shuttered and she turned forward again.</p><p>She flicked the reins, and Bya groaned, turning sharply to the right. Palmo took them down to one of the smaller mountains, where the lemurs would often go to nest, and set them down on a ledge. She turned and grabbed her glider, then hopped off Bya’s head.</p><p>Senge looked down at her, Jamyang still clinging to her arm, crying. “<em> Do not </em> lift yourselves a foot off the ground until I get back. Am I clear?” she barked up at them.</p><p>Senge nodded quickly. Jamyang was still distraught and Palmo looked to Senge. “If you see anything dangerous, anyone around who’s not an airbender, you take Bya and you go, okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” Senge whispered. Palmo flicked her glider open, a bright sunny yellow that looked out of place in the smoky haze and leapt into the air. As she flew close to the temples, she could see what she had feared was there.</p><p>Senge was only thirteen, and Jamyang was so little, just eight. She had been right to keep them away from this. Palmo landed at the base of the grand steps, sending ash skittering over the stone. Two were prostrate across the stairs, clinging to each other, unrecognizable through burns and decay. Away from the girls, she allowed herself tears. She forced herself to move, feeling unnaturally tethered to the ground and heavy in a foreign way.</p><p>Palmo walked through the main hall, the other pathways dark and silent, but she was drawn past them, to the end of the line where the sanctuary laid open and dark. Her heart pounded as she drew closer, and before she was too close the smell hit her and the sound of buzzing flies filled her head. She fell to her knees, hands clasped across her mouth and nose. However it happened, that they hid and the doors were forced open, or they were overrun before they could seal themselves in, that sacred place was full of horror. She scooted away from the sanctuary, taking refuge in the mouth of another hall.</p><p>She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She could not fall apart when her girls were waiting for her. She stared at the wall but noticed red in her peripheral vision. A boot, black with red trim and pointed at the toe. It just confirmed what she’d suspected.</p><p>What fight did the Fire Nation have with them? No territory could interest them, not like the Western or Southern temples, like the Earth Kingdom. The Fire Nation was a whole ocean away, or else they traversed across the map to them. For what? What reason was enough to justify this?</p><p>Palmo raised her hand and snapped in her own ear. Snapped again. She could sit in this grand monument to decay, or she could act.</p><p>She stood and walked down the children’s hall. Jamyang’s room was empty of horror, but the door was flung open and the mattress ripped apart. Palmo ignored it and went to the little chest at the end of the bed. It had clearly been rifled through, but she grabbed a few extra of her robes and tucked them under her arm. She went down to Senge’s room and did the same, taking a few of her robes and adding them to the pile. Palmo felt around the floor of the little chest until she came upon the hollow and grabbed the poems Senge liked to write.</p><p>She searched the room until she found a small travel bag and stuffed the clothes and the poems inside. She’d seen enough, she’d seen more than she’d ever wanted to see, but she walked with forced calm down the hall, sidestepping a tiny corpse and, unable to hold back a sob, she muttered an apology. Palmo walked down until she made it to the large room with the balconies she shared with the other nuns. She stuffed an extra of her own robes into the satchel and filled a small coin purse – the money box, too, had been looted, and so she picked up the few extra coins from where they’d fallen on the ground. As soon as she had what she needed, she leaned out the window and begged the wind to carry her away.</p><hr/><p>The black snow was clotting on the ground, pockmarking the landscape. The cold wind carried a stink of smoke.</p><p>Aluki grabbed Aang by the bicep and pulled him towards the opening in the wall.</p><p>“We’re gonna close it up!” she told him. Through the opening, Aang could see the line of soldiers marching closer, becoming more featured every second. She took her bending stance, and Aang mirrored her. Without speaking, they moved at the same time, twisting and pushing upwards. The ground shuddered as the ice moved, grew, blocked off the entrance to the village and sealed everyone inside.</p><p>Aang frowned. The tanks had scaled the treacherous mountainside, the whole of the Patola range, and come up the side of their mountain. How would they not scale this wall or shoot it down, blast a hole in the side and come marching in?</p><p>Aluki turned, rushing, and Tagak was running by, a spear in his left hand and bending with his right. Aaju and Gyatso returned, and Aluki pushed Aang, harshly, towards their house. “You two have to go.”</p><p>Aang’s jaw dropped but out the corner of his eye he saw Gyatso head towards their building. “What? No!” he said. “We’re going to help you, there’s no one else here!”</p><p>“There’s enough – we can fight them off if they’re just angry they missed you, but if they know you’re here?” She shook her head. “They won’t ever stop. You have to go.”</p><p>Aaju spoke up. “She’s right. We can defend ourselves, but I can’t guarantee we can protect you. If they see you go and know you’re gone, they’ll want to chase you. If they don’t, they’ll raze our village to search for you.”</p><p>This wasn’t right. Aang clenched his hands into fists to stop their shaking. This wasn’t right, that he would flee and make the Water Tribe deal with what he brought upon them. He was the Avatar, he was supposed to help them, to stop things like this. If it had still been winter, with the whole of the village, all their hunters and benders present and ready, he knew they’d be able to hold them off. But summer was busy and very few people were still around to help, who were not at the other villages in the South Pole or trading up north.</p><p>How could he bring this to them, and then just leave without helping?</p><p>Appa groaned behind him, and Gyatso had already thrown their packs onto the saddle. This was so wrong, but if this was the only way he could truly help them, he’d do it. Aang screwed up his face and threw his arms around Aluki.</p><p>“Thank you for teaching me, Sifu Aluki,” he said as she brought her arms up to return his hug. She thumped him on the back.</p><p>“Stay safe, Aang. We’ll be just fine,” she said, pushing him away, towards Appa. She nodded at Gyatso. “Take care.”</p><p>He bowed, low and respectful. “We can never repay you for what you’ve done for us – I only hope we get the chance.”</p><p>Aang stood in front of Aaju, and she held out her arm, just like on the first night. He grasped and shook, then yelped, startled, when she tugged him forward and gave him a hug as well. </p><p>“Thank you, Chief Aaju,” he said. She released him and held her arm out to Gyatso, who shook it and murmured a goodbye.</p><p>“Go, now. Make sure they see you, but don’t get caught.”</p><p>Aang hopped up on a puff of air and used Appa’s horn to pull himself the rest of the way. Gyatso situated himself in the saddle, holding his glider tightly. Aang cast one last look to Aluki and Aaju, then flicked the reins.</p><p>“Appa, yip yip!”</p><p>A groan and the thump of Appa’s tail sent snow flying everywhere, and they watched as they flew, low over the walls. Aluki brought Aaju close, then raised another platform of ice so they could see. The troops had approached very closely, perhaps only a few minutes’ walk between the Fire Nation and their tribe’s wall. Appa flew very low over the line of soldiers and dodged several blasts of fire before the snow around the soldiers rose up like a wave and dropped heavily, knocking an entire line of men to their feet and burying two of the tanks whole. Aluki elbowed her wife.</p><p>“I taught him that,” she said smugly.</p><p>Aaju just nodded. “That’s good. That’s proof for them that they’ve missed him.”</p><p>They watched as several of the tanks turned around, following Appa towards the South Sea, the remaining combatants still approaching the village. Appa stayed low and drew the tanks away from the village. Aluki collapsed their platform, and Aaju jumped back into action. She commanded Tagak upfront with her and Aluki and a handful of others - the leather tanner’s apprentice up into one of the watchtowers and a few of the healers ready to jump into combat.</p><p>The handful of waterbending masters who were still in the village took up platforms on the side of the wall and began to hurl large hunks of ice at the invaders, knocking several of them down. It wasn’t enough, though, Aluki knew. She breathed in deeply, calmed her energy in preparation for what she was about to do. </p><p>Then, she crafted a stream of water beneath her feet and rode it to the outside of the wall. The soldiers began to run towards her, deviating from the marching pace they’d had - a few of the men in front were taken out by her fellows up on the wall. She held out her hands, concentrating, eyes closing so that she could feel the water, the ice, the humidity in the air. She sighed. The water was all around. At her feet, at her fingertips, in her blood. She shook with the effort of feeling it all - the sheer magnitude of it threatened to overwhelm her like a tsunami. But she was a master. </p><p>Just as she began to feel the heat of the fire, she moved in a single, fluid motion, plunging her arms down and sweeping them out with a cry, returning the power of the water with the power in her body. At her feet the ice sheet cracked, shattered into tiny pieces, melting back into ocean. It moved like a ripple through still water - out from her feet to the ice beneath the soldiers. As the tundra shook, a few of the Fire Nation men began to stumble, and flee. Some of the soldiers panicked and began to bend, trying to use their fire to lift themselves up from the icy throes of the ocean, but it only hastened the melting of the ice, and they fell into the freezing water. </p><p>The everythingness of it consumed Aluki, and she fell to her hands and knees, spent. Perhaps a third of the soldiers were still standing, another third fled, and the last third were in the water, freezing and sinking quicker than their companions could pull them out. The ones that remained rushed in a single unit to the village, though forced to circumvent the massive tear in the ice she’d made. If she could get her feet back under her, she could get back behind the wall - but it was nearly too much to stay upright, let alone stand. She asked much of the water, and the water only took what was fair in return. </p><p>She would never, but Aluki almost cursed it for that when the leader approached her, standing tall over her. He held his hands out, ready to strike. </p><p>His face was calm. Cool. Ready. </p><p>“Where have you sent the Avatar?” he asked. </p><p>“I don’t know.” It was true. She had no idea where Aang and Gyatso were headed. She assumed the Earth Kingdom, but that was hardly specific. </p><p>“Try again.” He flexed his fingers and his knuckles popped.</p><p>“I don’t know where the Avatar is going.”</p><p>“Then you are useless,” he said, tensing. The trade of offense between the soldiers and the Water Tribe had stopped as Aluki and the general spoke, each side at the ready.</p><p>Aluki clenched her hands in the snow. She would not go down on her knees, helpless - water was smooth and she made it sharp. The air was cold, but the soldiers made it hot. The inhale before action, and -</p><p>The man reared back, howling, clutching a hand to his shoulder, a dagger made from the carved claw of a polar bear dog dripping red blood onto the snow from where it had buried itself in the gap in his armor. Aluki turned and saw Aaju - her aim had always been impeccable. Aaju took advantage of the brief, stunned pause to drag Aluki bodily back inside the wall, Taamusi closing up the small, door-sized gap he’d made. The wall shuddered, and Aluki heard cries from noncombatants as fire sailed up into the air, and felt the thuds rattle through the ice as the Water Tribe fought back. </p><hr/><p>Several hours after they’d cleared out the little, dingy wooden ships from the harbor, General Nobu entered the prince’s quarters on their ship. He bowed, low, out of respect and shame in equal measure. It pulled at his hastily bandaged shoulder, but he endured the pain - he failed, and he bore the mark of his shame. </p><p>Prince Azulon watched him with mild interest from a tall, cushioned seat, a steaming cup of tea and a small plate of dango glazed in cinnamon sauce in front of him. Nobu had tried it before - it was an unconventional flavor, and it did not sit well with him. It was a favorite of the prince’s, though. A bizarre quirk.</p><p>General Nobu stayed in his bow, his wound pulling, as the prince observed him. </p><p>“You may stand,” he said. Nobu stood. The Prince blinked at him, slow, unworried. </p><p>“What news do you have for me?”</p><p>Nobu bowed his head. “The Avatar escaped. Many of our tanks were destroyed, and the ones that returned are damaged. We failed to penetrate the wall of the Southern Water Tribe.”</p><p>Azulon looked down at him from his seat, the steam from the tea obscuring the left half of his face. </p><p>“That is disappointing,” he said coldly. “Tell me, do you want what is best for the Fire Nation?”</p><p>“I do, Prince Azulon.”</p><p>“And do you recognize the threat the Avatar poses to our country?” he continued. </p><p>Nobu swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I do, Prince Azulon.”</p><p>Azulon cocked his head in confusion. “So why did you fail?” </p><p>“The Avatar fled before we reached the village. The Water Tribe took out many of our soldiers - good men killed -,” he began passionately, but Azulon raised a hand and cut him off. Nobu bit his tongue. He’s done it now.</p><p>“What should you have done differently?” the prince asked him.</p><p>Nobu licked his lips, and chose his words carefully. “I should have brought ships through the ice for extra power. I should have sent a small team ahead to locate and extract the Avatar. I should have taken a larger crew, and I should have killed the waterbender when I had the chance,” he responded, voice taking on a bitter edge. Azulon raised an eyebrow. </p><p>“What waterbender?” he asked. </p><p>“A lone waterbender sent dozens of our men to their deaths,” he spat. Azulon’s face was mournful. </p><p>“How awful. This is what we’re trying to do - just help the world, and they give us a knife in the back.”</p><p>Nobu nodded. “I agree completely, Prince Azulon. The Avatar abandoned them, and they still believe <em> we </em>are their enemy.”</p><p>Azulon gestured for Nobu to sit, and so he kneeled on the floor before him. The prince picked up his tea and blew on it, closing his eyes and drinking. A display of trust - reserved only to family, close advisors, and the highest of vice admirals. </p><p>Azulon set the cup down, and Nobu’s fears of being banished or killed began to melt away. </p><p>“Please, tell me everything.” Nobu relayed the entire story, pleased as the prince listened intently. So young, hardly past adulthood, yet still so wise. He would surely lead their nation to greatness.</p><p>Azulon listened to the man tell his story, tamping down annoyance as he talked ceaselessly. For the moment, they’d succeeded. To cultivate his underlings’ trust was always worthwhile - if they feared him, they would only tell him sweet lies, and would abandon him as soon as was convenient. If they trusted him, he would get the truth, despite its grit and blood, and he would get something even more important - loyalty. </p><p>He brought the cup of tea up to his lips, and set it down without drinking from it.</p><hr/><p>At one point as they fled from the Water Tribe, Gyatso had taken over steering, and Aang found himself sitting in the saddle. He supposed it had to do with the wide circle he’d been flying Appa in - hardly noticeable, but it would have brought them right back around to the Water Tribe. Gyatso hadn’t called him on it, but had placed a hand on Aang’s shoulder and taken over, quickly correcting their course to head north. </p><p>The air warmed slowly as they made their way. Aang leaned over the edge of the saddle and watched as the last of the ice in the water disappeared over the horizon. He knew it was the best they could do, in the situation. That they showed the Fire Nation that he was gone would egg them on to follow him, and leave the Water Tribe alone (for the most part, at least). He knew it was true in the same way he knew that the poles saw nights and days that were six months long. Knowing something was very different from experiencing it. </p><p>Aang remembered the fear when he’d woken up that morning in the Southern Air Temple, remembered it like it had been minutes ago, and not almost four whole months now. The smoke curling into his window, tickling his nose, the sound of shouts and banging. What they’d done, the soldiers, to children who were just going to their lessons, to monks who were just sweeping the courtyard. He’d brought that to them, no matter what Gyatso said. Maybe not on purpose, but his presence there had been what caused it - and brought that same, swift aggression on the Water Tribe. </p><p>He was the Avatar - he was supposed to keep people safe, to protect the world. Instead, he only brought fear and destruction. Aang frowned. Roku told him that he needed to defeat Sozin before he further destroyed the world. It was a frustratingly vague goal. He wouldn’t have the time to learn the elements like Roku had - he needed to stop the world from descending into destruction. Aang had learned water very quickly - four months of work, and Aluki had shown him all the forms. They had moved on to practicing them all, drilling, sparring. But he had no idea if he was really a master yet - air had taken him twelve years to master fully. </p><p>But he couldn’t help the world if each element took him a <em> decade </em>to learn! That would take way too long, and who knows what would happen to the world if he took his sweet time mastering the elements. </p><p>It startled him when the sun began to set. Aang supposed he’d gotten more used to the endless day of the South Pole. As the sky went gold and orange, Gyatso landed them on a lush, small island. Aang realized they were close to where the elephant koi lived, in the warm waters of the southern seas. As soon as they set down, Appa <em> bounded </em>towards the tall kash grass, and rolled over on his back, munching on it. Aang grinned. Appa didn’t usually like kash, but he supposed sky bison weren’t made for snowy weather and to eat nothing but seaweed. As he smiled, his chapped lips cracked, and he cleared his throat, realizing he hadn’t said a word on their whole flight. </p><p>“Aang.” He turned to face Gyatso. </p><p>“Come meditate with me,” Gyatso asked. He looked a little silly, wearing a Water Tribe tunic with his beaded necklace. </p><p>“We should…” find clean water, start a fire, figure out <em> how </em>exactly to fix this messed up world. </p><p>“Aang,” he said again. “Come meditate with me.”</p><p>He sat facing the ocean, and after a pause, Aang sat next to him. Usually, they meditated in silence, but Gyatso spoke out loud. Instead of the calming, mind-clearing meditation Aang usually focused on, Gyatso began with simple childhood prayers, and Aang only listened, awash with nostalgia. It was so recently that they said these prayers in the temple, and missing it ached - he wanted to cut it out, the pain, but then Gyatso moved on. </p><p>He prayed for peace and happiness for himself, then for Aang, then for Aaju, then for Aluki. He prayed until the sun sank and the moon was high, going through the names of everyone they’d met in the Water Tribe, for everyone they were separated from at the Southern Air Temple, Dawa, Tsering, Yonten, Pelbu, Sonam, names upon names - then those they knew from the other temples - Palmo and Jiang and <em> everyone </em>, Kuzon and Teruko, and there was no way to stuff it into a little ball and deal with it later. They prayed, and Aang wept, and Gyatso wept, too, voice shaking as he prayed for name after name, much longer and much more intensive than this meditation normally was, until they could think of no one else. </p><p>It had been dark for hours by the time they finished. It was exhausting, but purging, purifying, to meditate on grief and fear and uncertainty, to wish for the best, no matter what that meant. To unchain oneself from the murkiness of tangled emotion and find that love was at the core of it all. </p><p>It was only just as Aang was falling asleep, resting on Appa’s tail, that he realized they’d forgotten part of the meditation - and though it hurt, and though it was hard, before he succumbed to sleep, Aang thought of the Fire Nation, of the soldiers, and the abstract shape of Sozin that loomed silhouetted by fire in his mind. He meditated and wished peace on them, for them to stop, to end this. He knew it was unlikely, as unlikely as a spirit walking out of the forest and snatching a human up to be its pet, but he still wished peace on them, as this form of meditation called for. They’d recited name after name for hours - Aang knew Gyatso hadn’t forgotten on purpose. Chest empty and light like after a deep breath, Aang fell asleep.</p><hr/><p>Sozin listened as the sage droned on and on, the artifacts they’d taken from the Air Temples laid out before him. A bizarre, dark-age method of finding the Avatar, little toys for the children to pick out as connected to their past lives. </p><p>The sages had told him there was a way to find the Avatar using these, but Sozin knew it was fruitless - there was little they could really do now that their intentions had been made clear. If he was honest with himself, he knew they had likely edged too close to brutality for long before the comet came, and had it been a more war-eager nation than Air, they would never have even gotten close enough for the plan to work. </p><p>He reached out and picked up one of the Avatar relics. It was a string pull toy that would send a wood and canvas dragonfly spinning through the air. He wondered about the Air Nomad who had picked this toy out, declared himself apart. </p><p>Perhaps he was like Roku - silly and soft and too sentimental for his own good. Maddeningly out of reach, uncontrollable. An enemy he should have recognized sooner. Sozin fiddled with the string of the toy, a single glass bead strung along it. </p><p>It was no help to him. To keep the children alive, to test whether they’d even make a real choice was far less efficient than simply cutting down every and all. No help at all.</p><p>He slammed the toy on the table before him - too hard, the wing of the dragonfly snapped, held together only by its canvas. He stood without word, and the sage continued haltingly as he left, trailing off as the guards held open the curtain for him.</p><p>He stalked past the sages and the guards, into his study, slamming the massive doors loudly enough so that every servant would know to tread lightly around him these next few days. His books and scrolls littered his desk, reeking of obsession. Sozin knew himself well enough – it was obsession. A demand of the universe, one he had no business making.</p><p>But this was not about the universe – it was about the world. The sandy, starving villages in the Earth Kingdom, once at least held together by usurpers and tyrants, now simply falling by the wayside. He’d watched it happen all his life, dealing with leaders in charge of nothing of importance – the Avatar was not fit to guide the world. The Avatar held the nations down, denied the natural order of things - Roku had seen the prosperity in the Fire Nation, and denied it to the world. </p><p>Sozin knew what needed to be done. </p><p>A squawk from his window startled him. He turned, and there was a messenger hawk perched there, stretching one leg out behind it. He uncapped the message tube on the hawk’s back and removed the scroll. The bird hopped once on the windowsill, then turned and took off towards the aviary in the capital center.</p><p>Sozin unfurled the scroll, reading carefully. To celebrate prematurely was the habit of a fool. But in the privacy of his study, he allowed himself a small smile. Azulon’s plan had succeeded in flushing the Avatar out of the South Pole, and into the Earth Kingdom. The Earth Kingdom, with its criminals and bounty hunters, people who cared so little for their nation that they’d sell their ally to a foreign leader for a few gold pieces. Sozin placed the scroll in a desk drawer and locked it. He’d take care of that disloyalty later, when it had outlived its usefulness.</p><p>For now, it was a waiting game.</p><hr/><p>Aang sat across from Gyatso in the little tea shop. The Pai Sho board was beautiful, made of colored sea glass, and the tiles were carved from giant flying shark teeth. Aang scrutinized the board before him - he only had one strong tile left, the White Dragon. He had three Notweed tiles, though - and if Gyatso made a fatal mistake, he’d be able to foist both of them onto his side of the board, and take one of his Chrysanthemum tiles. </p><p>Of course Gyatso made no fatal mistakes. Aang narrowed his eyes at the board, but his train of thought was interrupted when one of the teahouse ladies came by with their drinks. She was a short older woman, with grey hair and a soft, lined face.</p><p>“Here you go,” she said, handing Aang his ginger chai and a little saucer of milk. </p><p>“Thank you!”</p><p>“And here’s that, oh turmeric and anise, that is my favorite,” she said brightly to Gyatso. </p><p>“Is it?” he said. “I have never tried this flavor before,” he said, twisting the end of his mustache. </p><p>“Oh, you’ll love it. After all, you seem like a man with good taste,” she said slyly. Under the table, Aang reached out, poking Gyatso in the knee with his foot, waggling his eyebrows.</p><p>Gyatso ignored him and scooted out from the table slightly until he was out of Aang’s reach. </p><p>“There is no good taste in this world - only lovely experiences to be had,” he said. Aang coughed into his tea, the saucer of milk clattering and sloshing. The woman looked at him, then she nodded down to the saucer. </p><p>“I can bring you another?” Aang shook his head. </p><p>“That’s okay, I don’t usually put milk in anyways.”</p><p>She smiled. “I’ll let you get back to your game,” she said, picking the milk saucer back up. She nudged Aang with her elbow.</p><p>“Switch your Notweed and your Rose tiles,” she whispered with a wink before walking back behind the counter. He did, then looked up at Gyatso, pointing at the board.</p><p>“Ha! It worked.” Graciously, Gyatso ceded his Chrysanthemum tile. Aang nodded towards the woman behind the counter. </p><p>“She likes you,” he sang teasingly.</p><p>Gyatso observed the board serenely. “It would seem so,” he said, picking up his tea. He blew on it once and took a sip. </p><p>His eyes widened slightly, and he did not swallow. Aang looked to his left and saw the woman watching surreptitiously from behind the counter. Gyatso followed his line of sight, and smiled (though it looked more like a grimace) before swallowing the tea. He pointed at the cup and nodded - the woman smiled, pleased, and disappeared into the back. When she was gone, Gyatso smacked his lips and coughed slightly.</p><p>“That was like pure anise liqueur,” he said, strained. Aang reached over, grabbing the cup off its plate.</p><p>“Let me try,” he said, taking a large sip. His eyes bugged and he turned to face the wall, spitting the tea back into the cup. “Sorry,” he said, handing the cup back to Gyatso. </p><p>Gyatso shook his head. “Too strong,” he said. </p><p>Then the woman reemerged. “How was it?” she asked. </p><p>“It was unlike any tea I have ever tasted,” Gyatso said carefully. Aang nodded. The woman clucked happily. </p><p>“Well, then it is your lucky day,” she said, pulling a small burlap sack from her apron pocket. “It’s our secret blend, so don’t go telling everyone,” she whispered, setting the bag of tea on the table. </p><p>“Oh,” Gyatso said, staring at it.</p><p>She winked. “On the house.”</p><p>“This is almost too kind,” Gyatso said, picking up the bag of tea and sniffing it. “Thank you for your generosity. We should be going, though.”</p><p>“We should?” Aang asked, looking down at his cup of chai mournfully.</p><p>She raised her eyebrows. “You are? You’re not going to finish your game?”</p><p>“Oh, these games of ours take days to finish,” he said. </p><p>“Well, I think it’d be just fine if you took a few days to play. The long game can be <em> quite </em>entertaining,” she said. Aang stared steadfastly at the board, blushing slightly at the woman’s forwardness. </p><p>“I am certain we do not have a few days to spare. Thank you, though, I’m certain it will take me a long time to get through this tea,” Gyatso said, rising and handing over a few copper pieces for their drinks. Aang took a final large sip of his tea and stood, walking after Gyatso out of the teahouse, waving at the woman as they left. She cleared the table, looking somewhat disappointed. </p><p>As they walked down the road, Gyatso handed the bag of tea to Aang. “What a kind woman,” he said. </p><p>Aang grinned at him, putting the tea in the pocket of his waistband. “She <em> liked </em>you!” he said, laughing. </p><p>“She did seem agreeable,” Gyatso conceded. “However, this tea was certainly not. Though that Pai Sho board was a wonder. I would have liked to finish that game.”</p><p>“Did we really have to go or did you just not want to drink anymore of that tea?” Aang asked.</p><p>“We <em> should </em>start on our way to Gaoling tomorrow, and be in Omashu very soon.”</p><p>Aang raised an eyebrow. Gyatso sighed.</p><p>“But I also did not want to drink any more of that tea.”</p><p>Aang laughed.</p><hr/><p>Gyatso scratched at his arms - the modest clothes they bought when they arrived in Gaoling that morning itched terribly. They helped him and Aang blend in however - and avoiding attention was vital as they made their way to Omashu. </p><p>He clasped his hands together. If he itched anymore, he’d cause himself a wound. Oh, but he missed the soft yarn of bison fur. This cloak was some bizarre concoction of wool and bamboo fiber. He watched for Aang’s return under the shade of a straw salakot - summer was nearly in full swing in the south of the world. North of Omashu, the world sat in winter. </p><p>Gaoling was a large city, though smaller and less well-protected than Omashu or Ba Sing Se, but still a safe place to stop. </p><p>Despite that, it would be unwise to fall into the lull of safety here. Every day he felt more and more like a prey animal, constantly looking around with big eyes to see in every direction. For what, exactly, he was unsure. But he knew the strike against them at the Air Temples was not the first - not by years. He would be a fool to believe it would be the last. </p><p>He warred with himself, somewhat - Aang as the Avatar needed the full scope of truth of what was going on. But Aang was not solely the Avatar - Gyatso seemed to be the only one who could see it, that he was a boy like any other despite everything the spirits had asked of him. Gyatso tapped his foot. A boy, like any other, who was taking far too long watching a street vendor craft caramel animals. He resolved to go fetch him if he didn’t return in a few minutes. It was instinct to let him explore and wander, and he still wanted to allow that even now. </p><p>Then he saw the people on the street parting like tall grass in the wind.</p><p>“Gyatso! You’re never gonna believe it, I found something amazing!” Aang said, bouncing over across the market.</p><p>“What have you found?” Gyatso asked.</p><p>Aang pointed towards where he’d walked from. “There was a woman over there and she saw my tattoos-,”</p><p>“She saw your tattoos? You were meant to keep them covered,” Gyatso interjected, frowning. Aang’s salakot was behind his head, the chinstrap like a necklace. Aang continued talking as Gyatso reached over and fixed it.</p><p>“Yeah, I know, but she saw I was an airbender and she told me that there’s a lot of Air Nomads who’ve taken refuge in the cities and that they’ve formed alliances. There are others, Gyatso,” Aang said, eyes sparkling. “Maybe even people from home. She told me where to go,” he said, rattling off the address.</p><p>Aang was grinning, hopeful and happy in a way he hadn’t been since the comet. Gyatso sighed. He wouldn’t relish tearing that down, but –</p><p>“It’s not safe, Aang. We don’t know if that alliance is real – we shouldn’t risk it.”</p><p>Aang’s face fell immediately. “What? Why <em> wouldn’t </em>we go see? We can find out what happened to the other temples -,”</p><p>“Aang,” Gyatso cut him off. “It could be a trap.”</p><p>Aang scowled. “It’s like you don’t even want to know what happened or- or be with our people again!”</p><p>“You know that is not true. I want desperately to find our companions, and to recover from what has scattered us so far apart -,” he began.</p><p>“Then let’s go, let’s find them!” Aang interrupted.</p><p>“But what I want, more than anything, is to keep you safe, so that the world can heal, and make it safe for us again. But right now, the world is unsafe for us. We cannot take all things in good faith,” Gyatso said gently. He’d spent all his life among the Air Nomads – being out in the world, traveling without a large caravan, was strange and a constant reminder of what had happened. To find compatriots again would be an unimaginable blessing – and just that. Like the phases of the moon, the world waxed and waned. To demand light from the new moon was foolish, and no matter the demand, no matter how great the need for sight was, light would only be shed when the moon was full.</p><p>Abruptly, the hope and desperation on Aang’s face shuttered into blankness. His shoulders dropped infinitesimally.</p><p>“Okay,” he said casually, like the prospect of finding kin was of no importance to him. Gyatso paused. Aang was a sensitive child, and open about his emotions, but the awfulness of what had happened was difficult to even think about. In the Southern Water Tribe, he’d thrown himself into games with the other children, into training with Aluki, cutting that horror off until it caught up with him in a dream or in the still of the night.</p><p>It was dangerous to trade in silly favors, but if the alliance was real, what a blessing it would be. If it was fake, they would have the certainty of knowing. As they continued through the market, discussing other things, Gyatso decided to find an old friend.</p><hr/><p>The inn they were staying at was small, and on the outskirts of town. The address that the Air Nomads met at was only a few minutes’ walk, on the western outer edge of the city.</p><p>Aang dropped his pack near the door, not bothering to unload his things – so few, and it was always good to be able to grab it and go at a moment’s notice. At the tiny wood stove, he made tea for himself and Gyatso, one a calming white tea, and the other a strong, morning black. Gyatso didn’t want to go see if there were others – but Aang knew they needed to let go of fear in order to heal. He drank his strong black tea, making a plan for the night, but close to dusk Gyatso left, having missed an item at the market and wanting to catch the vendors before sundown. Aang leaned out the window, watching him go in a muddy-colored cloak down the street until he blended in. As soon as he was out of sight, Aang grabbed his glider and slipped out the back door of the inn, making his way to the western edge of town, the low, evening sun bright in his eyes.</p><p>The address the woman had given him was a tall house, with many windows, perched on the edge of the city hill, like a tower on a mountain. Aang grinned as he approached, excitement quickening his steps. He knocked twice on the door.</p><p>“Hello?” he asked through the wood. “Hello? Anyone home?”</p><p>Nothing. He put his ear up to the door but was met with silence. He frowned. Maybe he had the wrong address, or they’d moved on. He turned around, heading back down the steps when a noise caught his attention. Over one of the windows, a chime was tinkling in the wind, wood painted orange, a tiny carving of a lemur with its wings outstretched serving as the wind sail. His heart skipped a beat. He was in the right place – they were only looking for someone to put the signs together, to be sure. Aang turned around and knocked once more (as much as he knew he was meant to enter on his own, he would feel very awkward if he’d misread the signs). No response again, but the chime was still singing in the breeze.</p><p>Aang tested the door. It slid in its tracks, unlocked.</p><p>He stepped inside – it was cool and silent, no fire in the hearth, no people around the low table near the kitchen. No lamps lit. “Hello?” he called again, only a step inside the doorway, clutching his glider a little tighter. Surely, if Air Nomads were here, hiding out, they’d not want to just be out in the open. He stepped a little further in, closing the door behind him.</p><p>“Hello? Is there anyone here?”</p><p>Nothing. Aang stood in the center of the living space – he’d been so sure. But maybe he had just missed them. </p><p>Behind him, the wooden floor creaked. He whirled around and gasped, ducking just before the blunt end of a madu swung through where his head had been, the breeze from its movement tickling his ear. Without looking up at his attacker, he dove in a tumble towards the wall near the door.</p><p>He pressed his back up against the wood, and glanced up at the huge man wielding two bronze-plated horns, grafted together and sharpened on each end to a point. The man was easily two heads taller than Gyatso, and twice his width. He stepped forward and swung the madu again, point out this time, and Aang whipped his staff in a wide half-circle, skimming over the top of the floor. The blast knocked the man off his feet, and Aang wasted no time whipping the door open, chest heaving. Sparring or training was <em> nothing </em>like a real fight – the man had truly been genuinely trying to hurt or kill him.</p><p>He leapt down the stairs at the front of the house, but before he could flick his glider open and take off, something coiled around his ankle and tugged him to the ground, dragging him over the grass to the feet of a woman. She looked down at him disinterestedly, and bent a stream of water towards his head, freezing it into large chunks like hail. It was only at the last second that Aang remembered they probably didn’t know he was the Avatar and stopped himself from melting them, instead creating a small shield of air in front of his face to deflect them. </p><p>Gyatso had been right, after what the Fire Nation had done, he never should have taken a chance with this trip. </p><p>
  <em> Wait. Waterbending? </em>
</p><p>He gaped up at the woman, the waterbender. Why would a waterbender want to hunt airbenders?</p><p>She moved again, shifting through a stance, and he dismissed the thoughts – he could wonder about it later. Aang rolled to his feet in a crouch, one hand on the ground, and swung his staff in a powerful, uncoordinated movement. The woman thrust her hand out and froze his hand to his staff, freezing it shut.</p><p>Aang flexed his frozen hand, testing how thick the ice was – too thick for him to break with sheer force without being suspicious.</p><p>The man had emerged from the building and charged him again – out in the open, the horns of the madu were giant, clearly from a Gulo gulo antelope, each about the length of Aang’s arm. The man stabbed out with it, and the woman froze Aang’s feet to the ground so that he fell backward. The madu came harshly down, but Aang rolled to the side, twisting his knee painfully. The madu stuck up out of the ground, and he hit it with his hand, breaking the ice around his staff. With the bottom of his glider, he broke up the ice around his feet, and turned, running two steps before flicking open his glider and crouching down ever so slightly, gearing up for a takeoff. Just as his foot was leaving the ground, he felt a blunt pain in his temple. He stumbled, dropping his glider. Another hit and he knew no more.</p><hr/><p>Gyatso knocked on the door three times. It swung open, and he smiled at his friend. Ru Beifong leaned against the doorpost.</p><p>“Who knocks at the guarded gate?” he asked, grinning.</p><p>“What disrespect,” Gyatso said sadly. “I believed we were dearer friends than that.”</p><p>Ru stepped out of the doorway. “Come in, then – won’t even answer me properly,” he muttered, but his smile belied his surly tone. He bowed, hand over fist in the airbender style.</p><p>“It’s really good to see you’re still kicking, old man,” Ru said, brown eyes dancing. With sweeping black hair and smooth skin, he was among the youngest in their society. Gyatso returned his bow.</p><p>“It is good to see you, too. I need your help.”</p><p>Ru gestured for him to sit at the table, then disappeared into the kitchen - Gyatso heard quiet talk as he dismissed the servants and returned alone. He took a seat across from Gyatso. </p><p>“What can I help you with?” </p><p>Gyatso twiddled his thumbs idly. “I am traveling with my student - we heard a rumor in the market today, and I wanted to verify it, if I could.”</p><p>Ru frowned. “I’m not sure I’ll be much help - I don’t get a lot of the gossip that travels the marketplace,” he said. Gyatso hummed. </p><p>“You are aware of what has happened to my people?”</p><p>“I am. Some travelers came through a while back, a nun and two girls, and they told everyone what happened.” The grief on Ru’s face was plainly apparent.</p><p>“So you’ve seen others?” Gyatso asked. That was a good sign.</p><p>“Hardly any - less than we’d seen in a day during fall,” he said. Oh, Gyatso had expected that. But still it hurt. </p><p>“My student heard that there is a place where survivors have formed an alliance - someone in the marketplace saw his tattoos and told him about it. I was suspicious, but if there is any truth to it, I would be overjoyed. We both would.”</p><p>“She wanted him to go somewhere to find other Air Nomads?” he asked incredulously. </p><p>“We should not trust it?”</p><p>Ru grimaced. “I wouldn’t. I’m not going to say that it’s definitely fake, but… a month or so back a bunch of fliers were posted around town – they got taken down pretty fast, but they were offering honor bounties to anyone, from any nation if they turned in an airbender to the Fire Nation.”</p><p>Ru leaned forward, looking intently at Gyatso. “This wasn’t just a hit – they’re being thorough. They want you dead, all of you. They’ll do it any way they can. You can trust the order, and you can trust your people. But there’s always going to be greedy assholes and bounty hunters. Don’t risk it, Gyatso.”</p><p>Gyatso sighed. “I suspected as much. A fair number were able to flee from the Southern Temple, but… I wasn’t sure how the others fared.”</p><p>“Not well. We don’t know everything, but however many Air Nomads escaped - whatever you think that number is, half it. I’ve gotten communications sent out to Ba Sing Se and the Northern Water Tribe, but aside from you and a few lower-level members, most of our airbender members haven’t resurfaced.” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t think they’re going to.”</p><p>Gyatso closed his eyes. They had been small in number compared to the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation before. Now, there were likely only wanderer families and refugees still remaining, a shell of what was. The elders. The children - an entire generation, nearly gone.</p><p>“How did you escape?” Gyatso opened his eyes. “How did your people flee the Southern Temple?”</p><p>Gyatso had no reason for his hesitation. The Order of the White Lotus had no ulterior motives, no agendas, no allegiance to anything but peace and harmony. Ru was a dear friend and a prominent member. But the words stuck in his throat.</p><p>Once spoken, he could never hide it again. The air temples, sacked and burned. The Southern Water Tribe, invaded by an army. Both times, they were only able to escape by the skin of their teeth.</p><p>On one level, Gyatso realized the shame in it, that he was less worried about bringing hardship on Ru or Gaoling than he was about bringing it upon Aang. But he’d altered his priorities when the war started. Before, before, before, he would have pledged himself to the Air Nomads, the Order, the Avatar. But he knew himself. It was shameful, unseemly, attached, that in the end those allegiances would all fall away.</p><p>It wasn’t how he was taught. Children were not raised by their parents to prevent this sort of attachment, the kind that eclipsed all else.</p><p>Gyatso knew his every allegiance would fall away for Aang.</p><p>“Gyatso?” Ru asked softly, glancing down to the scarring of his arm.</p><p>“The Avatar was at the Southern Temple. He allowed us to escape.”</p><p>Ru’s eyes widened. “The Avatar? You were with the Avatar?”</p><p>“Yes. They took him away after the attack to begin learning waterbending,” Gyatso said.</p><p>“That is fortunate. We will need the Avatar. I can send communications out to the north, to ensure his safety?”</p><p>“No,” Gyatso said sharply. Ru blinked, and so he calmed his tone. “No, that is much too risky. The Fire Nation attacked our people to destroy the Avatar. If they knew where he was, they would not hesitate.”</p><p>“Of course. What of you, then? Do you have a place to stay?”</p><p>“Yes, my student and I have found an inn. We are headed to Omashu, soon.”</p><p>Ru smiled. “You don’t know how glad I am to have found you. If you need anything at all, you know how to reach me.”</p><p>Gyatso stood. “Thank you, Ru. I should be getting back, but we’ll be in touch before I leave.”</p><p>Ru walked with him to the doors, and Gyatso pulled the hood of the cloak over his head, covering his arrow, Ru’s warning in mind. He walked briskly back to the inn they were staying at, close to the edge of town near the woods.</p><p>When he entered, the room was empty, the lanterns dark, and the air stale and still as if no one had been in for a long time. Their packs were on the floor by the entranceway, but no other signs of living were to be found. Appa, then. Aang was surely with Appa.</p><p>Gyatso went back out into the street, picking his way through the edge of the forest to where Appa was. Aang had constructed him a massive lean-to and had gathered wild figs into a massive pile on a leaf of elephant ear for him. Appa raised his head when Gyatso approached but was alone where he laid. No Aang. Unbidden, his heart began to flutter in nervous surety.</p><p>He returned to the empty room at the inn, and a second sweep of the space showed Aang’s glider was gone.</p><p>Gyatso picked up the two bags, slinging them over his shoulder, and grabbed his own glider. He pushed open the window and flew to the center of town, back to the massive estate of the Beifongs.</p><hr/><p>“I just can’t believe there are still vultures flying around, and now we have to deal with it,” Shinji said.</p><p>Kuzon frowned. He hated these conversations, about the war, about the Air Nomads and the Earth Kingdom, where he couldn’t say what he wanted unless he was willing to risk being branded as a traitor, and feeling like a coward for going along at all.</p><p>“It makes sense to me. They’re nomads, aren’t they?” he said, carefully, neutrally, as just another fact to take into consideration. Shinji raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“You really believed that? Kuzon,” he said, shaking his head.</p><p>Kuzon furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”</p><p>Shinji smirked, rolling his eyes. “Oh, wow. Kuzon, you know that was just a cover story, right? They were gathering an army on Fire Nation soil, anyone with half a brain could see it.”</p><p>Kuzon bit the inside of his cheek. Tilted his head in confusion, because the only way it was safe to ask questions was if you were really that stupid. </p><p>“I had no idea.”</p><p>“Yeah! Obviously, they had no need to travel here for anything other than war. The airbenders? They hate us, because we can see right through their lies. The soldiers busted a whole battalion, right outside the capital, and they had their weapons and were getting ready to invade.”</p><p>Kuzon nodded along. “What did they have?”</p><p>“Sneaky little blades that they use the air to throw, that can go all the way across a field. Their spears, and their bending – it was really, very fortunate that the soldiers c-,” Shinji broke off, eyes trained at a point over Kuzon’s shoulder. Kuzon turned, and his stomach swooped, and he could almost feel all the blood drop from his face.</p><p>Two soldiers were dragging a young man through the square - a new burn crept up the collar of his shirt and brushed the edge of his jaw, and his hair was loosed from its top-knot, framing his face. </p><p>Shinji made an interested little noise, watching. “Oh, my brother told me about this - he said they were going to start going soon,” he said to Kuzon. </p><p>“What?” Kuzon asked, trembling (like a coward, coward, <em> coward </em>). “What are they doing?”</p><p>“My brother said they’re going around and collecting all the people who’re conspiring against the Fire Lord - like that lady a few weeks ago,” Shinji said, eyes glued to the action.</p><p>“Oh,” Kuzon breathed. The air felt very thin. </p><p>The soldiers shoved the man to his knees in the square and pushed his head forward so that he was looking at the ground - a dishonorable death, he was unable to look into the face of his killer. Kuzon stood, not certain exactly what he was going to do but then Shinji grabbed his arm. </p><p>“Don’t leave yet,” he said, nodding towards the horror in the square, “Just watch.”</p><p>The soldiers held the man forward, and began to announce his crimes to all those watching. Treason. Conspiracy against the Fire Lord. Inciting violence. The man listed to the side but was pulled roughly upright. Kuzon pulled his arm from Shinji’s grip.</p><p>“I’m late, I have to help my mom with dinner,” he muttered, rushing into an alley. He snuck behind the back of the buildings towards the opposite end of the square. What could he do, what would get their attention and distract them?</p><p>A fire.</p><p>A fire would get their attention.</p><p>The wood-carver’s shop was the only building not made of stone, and Kuzon stoked his fire and held it in his hand, made to bring it up to the walls of the shop when he heard a rush of flame and the young man’s anguished scream. Another rush of flame, and it peaked, then cut off roughly. Kuzon closed his hand and his fire went out, too late. His arm dropped limply to his side. After a moment, he stood straight and began the walk home.</p><p>His mother greeted him brightly in the kitchen. He forced a smile and went to get changed for dinner.</p><p>Kuzon crawled beneath his desk and retrieved his old pillowcase, wrapped in twine, and took it, kneeling next to his bed. As silently as he could, he lifted the mattress and cut a slit in the bottom with his pocket knife, barely big enough for the package to fit inside. Tonight, he’d flip it over and sew it closed while his parents slept.</p><p>The open wound of it frightened him. When he wrote what he wrote, Kuzon didn’t realize it was worth a death sentence. Worth a banishment and a mark of shame. It was just the tiniest, smallest memorial to his friend.</p><p>Shinji, when they were little, had been so bookish and meek. He’d just watched an innocent man die with nothing more than morbid curiosity. Where Kuzon’s hands rested on the mattress it began to brown and smoke, and he snatched them away.</p><p>He heard a pot bang in the kitchen. What about his parents? They loved him, they loved him so much, but if they found his parchment, would they choose him? Was their love conditional? His father had served in the military, for years and years. When he talked about the Fire Nation, his eyes lit up and his voice tightened with pride. His country demanded loyalty, demanded that it outshine all else – he’d turn Kuzon in. A tangible expression of his treachery? Kuzon’s father would let him die for it. His mother, he wasn’t sure. But even the doubt of it ached.</p><p>He changed. Went and washed his face and snuck the sewing kit into his room after his parents went to sleep. When he tied the knot on the string and flipped the mattress back over, he felt the loneliness like a weight on his throat, strangling him. He had no allies in the world - who, then, was he living for?</p><p>Kuzon mouthed the words to a festival song as he tried to sleep.</p><hr/><p>The floor bumped. It had been a long time since Aang had fallen asleep in the air, shaken awake by swift currents. His arm was asleep, and his chest felt tight, like he needed a deep sigh. His eyes felt hot and fevered with too little sleep – what time had he gone to bed?</p><p>Aang opened his eyes blearily, then clenched them shut immediately when the barest hint of light felt like a white-hot poker in the back of his head.</p><p>His arms were so numb he wasn’t sure if he was moving them. Another bump of wind. He listened for the current of air, maybe a storm was building, but for being up in the sky there was so little wind. It didn’t even feel like he was flying.</p><p>He blinked carefully, squinting against the pain in his head – his face was mashed into a wooden floor, and his nose was just a few inches from the wall of a wagon. He tried to sit up, but his hands were bound with rope, and he tried to gasp or yell for help, but his jaw was bound shut with a stiff cloth, tightly tied around the length of his head.</p><p>His breathing started to pick up nervously, panic rising at being so restrained. He didn’t know where he was going, and he felt a bitter twist of guilt for not listening to Gyatso, to wait, to be cautious.</p><p>Aang held his breath for a moment, collecting himself. He twisted, still lying on the floor. It was a small wooden cart, and he could smell that it was used to transport livestock. His face was mashed onto the floor, still, and he grimaced – at least this was just residual. Climbing through the sewers in Omashu had been so much worse. He turned and looked, but the windows that usually bordered the top of the wagon had been sealed with metal plating.</p><p>Aang closed his eyes, partially against the meager light that filtered through the gaps in the wood, and partially to force his addled mind to <em> think </em>. He was in a wagon, on land, which was either very good or very bad, depending on how long he’d been out cold. Until otherwise proven, he’d err on the optimistic side and assume he was still in the Earth Kingdom. He opened his eyes and looked down at his bound hands – the rope was stiff and new, but his hands were so numb from being tied and laid on, he could hardly move them. When he shifted, the rope moved like a solid – like it was frozen.</p><p>Grinning stupidly, he remembered they only thought he was an airbender. He pulled his hands towards his face, and huffed freezing air onto the ropes out his nose – but the little water on his breath seemed to melt immediately. Aang scowled, and then startled as the wagon hit another bump in the road and sent him on his stomach. The movement jarred his head and he groaned, dropping his forehead onto his bound hands, closing his eyes. The movement of the cart was quick – he wasn’t sure how long he had before they got somewhere.</p><p>He parted his lips and breathed through his teeth. He must have hit his head harder than he thought, because before long a line of drool dropped from between his teeth and onto the rope. Aang wrinkled his nose. What a mess. He was so stupid, allowing himself to fall into this trap, despite what Gyatso had said. Would he ever get to see him again?</p><p>Oh. OH! The idea formed slowly in his brain, but Aang lifted his head over the ropes again, and pushed spit out from between his teeth, drooling all over the ropes and freezing them solid. Disgusting, but functional, like the sewage system in Omashu. When the ropes around his hands were frozen, he dragged himself to his knees, wincing at the pain of sitting on numb, buzzing legs, and brought his hands down viciously against the floor of the wagon. One hit, and the rope split along its braid. He tried pulling his hands apart but even then, it was still strong. Another hit and a different section of the rope split lengthwise. He huffed out his nose. If this took too long, they’d notice the sound of banging. Shuffling, he brought his right knee between his wrists and pinned them to the ground, pulling up. The rope cut up the sides of his wrists but gave way after a few tugs.</p><p>Aang smiled, flexing his newly-freed hands, and brought them up to untie the cloth binding his jaw shut. The numbness seeped out of his fingers, leaving prickling pain in its wake, but he got a finger in the knot and loosened it, pulling the binding off his head and freeing his jaw. He massaged the sore muscle near his ears, and when he opened his mouth he heard clicking. Finally, he reached down and freed his bound feet. He stood – the cart wouldn’t have been tall enough for a grown-up, but he was able to place the palms of his hands on the ceiling. He allowed himself one minute to stretch – Aang could feel the blood returning to his fingers and toes.</p><p>When his minute was up, on light feet, he tested the walls of the cart. Two long boards on the right side creaked and gave gently. He backed up to the opposite wall and made a tornado – as big as a person. The wall ripped away, and he jumped out onto the dirt road -  without dissipating the tornado, he sent it towards the front of the carriage. The large man and the waterbender woman were yelling, and the two ostrich-horses pulling the cart reared back and began to claw the air, running in separate directions. Aang heard the wooden yoke splinter, and he spotted his glider on the floor of the cart. He dove through the open side and grabbed it – feeling hands grasping at his clothing, hearing the slice of the madu through the air again, but he leapt off the side of the cart and took off into the air.</p><p>He looked back and saw the woman smack the man on the back of the head, and he turned forward, elated laughter bubbling up in his chest. He closed his eyes against the feel of the wind and flipped through the air. Aang looked around at the scenery below him – the only sign of civilization being the tiny spires of a port town towards the – he grimaced up towards the sun, the brightness bringing tears to his eyes as the adrenaline and elation faded and his head began to pound – to the west.</p><p>The sun was low in the sky and Aang realized he had no idea where he was, what day it was, or how long he’d been out. There was no sign of civilization for miles except for the port town – which, he presumed, was where they were taking him. He had nothing but his glider – he didn’t know where Gyatso was, or where Appa was, or where Gaoling was. He needed a map, at least. Aang shifted and flew off towards the port town.</p><hr/><p>It was mid-morning when Aang touched down at the outskirts of the port town. They’d traveled all through the night, apparently, and Aang hadn’t woken once. The port town was tiny, only a few ships docked in the harbor and a marketplace that spanned only a single street. No signs existed to show him where he was. </p><p>He was quietly thankful he was still wearing the clothes they’d bought in Gaoling - though he had nothing to cover his head, at least he didn’t stand out from a distance. </p><p>He needed a map - he’d normally just ask around but the people were giving him strange looks, and it rankled at him to not have a friend nearby. No Gyatso, no Appa, no one at all. Besides, he just learned a very thorough lesson on what could happen if he wasn’t careful. </p><p>Aang reached up to scratch his head and winced, dried flakes of blood underneath his nails. Huh. Maybe that was why everyone was giving him weird looks. He passed the different shops and stalls at the market without once seeing a map - vegetable stands, weaver’s shops, and a fish stand with a huge mahi-mahi hanging from a hook, chunks cut out of the side and buzzing with flies under the hot sun. He grimaced. </p><p>At the end of the road, there was a man sitting on a cushion, with various items spread out on a blanket before him. He gave Aang a cursory glance as he approached but soon went back to carving a stick into a sharp point. Aang crouched down in front of the items, knowing better than to paw through, lest the man think he was stealing. It was a strange collection of mismatched items - a single shoe, though finely beaded, a cracked porcelain tea set, a stuffed doll wearing an intricately patterned dress and a floral headpiece, and a few pages ripped out of old books, weighed down with stones. He craned his head to look at the pages - one showed a man pointing up at the sky, being struck by lightning through his fingertips, another showed an illustration of a pome-plum tree and how to prune it, and another showed a long-necked owl flying in front of the sun. </p><p>Aang frowned. </p><p>“What’re you looking for?” the man asked, voice garbled and phlegmy. He coughed as soon as he finished speaking, hacking without covering his mouth. When he stopped, Aang lowered his arms from where they’d been shielding his face. </p><p>“Do you have a map?”</p><p>“Do you have a gold piece?”</p><p>Aang patted down his pockets but remembered the small money bag he had in his pack, back in Gaoling. He shook his head. </p><p>“I don’t have a map.”</p><p>Aang huffed. “Can you at least tell me what this town is called?”</p><p>That made the man look up. “Nobody finds this place by accident.”</p><p>“Guess I got lucky,” Aang shrugged. The man’s eyes flicked up to his head, landing on his tattoo. Unconsciously, Aang reached up - oh, he had stubble. He needed to shave. </p><p>“Airbender,” the man said. </p><p>“Those are fake,” he blurted out. </p><p>“No they’re not,” the man snapped. </p><p>Aang fiddled with his glider. They were drawing stares. “You got nabbed, huh?”</p><p>“Nabbed?”</p><p>The man waved his hand. “Snatched, taken, nabbed. Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>The man turned back to his carving. “That was stupid of you.” Okay, fair, but it still stung. Aang sighed. “I know. Can you tell me the name of this town?”</p><p>“This town’s not on any map. No name,” the man said. Then he giggled, bizarrely. “Town with no name,” he said, still giggling. </p><p>“Can you tell me which way to Gaoling?”</p><p>“Nobody goes to Gaoling. You only ever leave Gaoling.” </p><p>Aang groaned. He was usually pretty good at interpreting old people’s strange wisdoms, but this man seemed truly insane. </p><p>“Can I just look at a map? To see where I am?” </p><p>“I don’t have a map. Do you have a gold piece?” he asked again.</p><p>“No, I don’t. Thanks,” Aang said flatly, standing to leave. </p><p>“Airbender!” the man shouted after him, even though Aang hadn’t even taken a step yet. More stares, and a few people were circling the scene like coyote-foxes. </p><p>“Where are you trying to get to?” </p><p>Aang sighed, casting his eyes around at the people who were gathered around them. “Gaoling.” </p><p>“You left Gaoling. Where are you trying to get to?”</p><p>The man’s phlegmy, garbled voice had taken on that frustrated edge, like when a teacher is trying to lead you to an answer. Perhaps the man was asking what his true destination was, once they left Gaoling. </p><p>“Omashu?” he said like a question. </p><p>“I’m going to Omashu,” the man said, the phlegm and garble gone from his voice, high pitched to sound like Aang. Aang scowled. </p><p>“No one ever goes to Gaoling.” The man was looking up at him. Then he turned and looked at the people who had been staring. Without Aang noticing, they’d drawn closer. The man pointed at them. </p><p>“Nabbers! Nabbers!” he shrieked, and the crowd flinched and disbanded as a collective. Aang sighed in relief, but scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. Why would they listen to this crazy old man?</p><p>The man reached forward and tapped Aang on the wrist. He pointed a gnarled finger at his own chest. “I’m the Earth King.”</p><p>Aang blinked. This guy was crazy.</p><p>“Ohhh-kayy, thank you, I gotta get going.” He started backing away. Someone grabbed his upper arm. He whirled around and came face-to-face with a man with a scar across his upper lip, like a thin, white mustache - but the man, still sitting on his cushion, snapped his fingers. </p><p>“No, no, no,” he said, like he was scolding a child. The scarred man released Aang’s arm, albeit reluctantly. The old man smiled toothlessly. “That’s not yours, is it, Ma Bingwen?”</p><p>The man pointed at him over Aang’s shoulder. “I told you to call me Shing of the Salted Earth! I told you!”</p><p>The old man laughed. “Ma Bingwen, who drank so much he pissed himself last New Year!” he sang. Aang snickered.</p><p>The man drew a knife and shoved Aang to the side, forgotten. “I’m not going to tell you again.”</p><p>“Okay, okay! Shing of the Salted Earth. What a terrifying name, for someone who cannot even afford a single rock of salt.” The man roared in anger, and swung the knife out in a large arc, aiming for the old man’s face. Without a trace of his age, the old man dodged the knife and rolled to his feet, stomping once, then sliding his foot forward. Ma Bingwen went flying back, the knife clattering pathetically to the ground. The old man wiped his nose wetly on his wrist, then stomped once more, and lifted himself into a turning kick. The ground beneath Ma Bingwen sank and flipped, too quickly to see, sending him up into the air and through the thatched roof of a stall. Aang gaped.</p><p>The old man just sat back down and picked up his whittling again. “I’m going to Omashu,” he said quietly, to himself. Aang looked around. The people crowding around had disbanded, further than where they’d been before to avoid the ire of this old man. </p><p>“I am going to Omashu. The shaved lady’s going to Omashu. The captain is going to Omashu. The airbender’s going to Omashu,” he half-sang, half-chanted. Aang sighed. His head ached and this nonsense conversation wasn’t helping. Flying long-distance on a glider was hard, but if he could circle around for a bit and maybe spot another town, hopefully he could find someone to tell him how to get back to Gaoling. </p><p>Abruptly, the man threw his knife and stick down onto the blanket of knickknacks, stood, dropped his seat on the blanket, and gathered the corners into a bundle. He slung the makeshift pack over his shoulder and Aang winced as he heard the tea set clatter. No wonder it was cracked. </p><p>He flicked open his glider as the old man began to walk away - he seemed to be the only thing keeping the… nabbers from going after him again. The old man whistled sharply, pointing back without turning around. </p><p>“You don’t know where to go,” he said. </p><p>“Ugh! Maybe if I could see a <em> map</em>, I would know where to go!” he snapped. Aang usually prided himself on his patience, but his head hurt, he just escaped being kidnapped to a town where there were a lot more people who also wanted to kidnap him, Gyatso was who-knows-how-far-away in Gaoling, probably spitting mad that Aang snuck away, and this old man was talking circles around him. So help him, he was a little snappish. </p><p>“You’re going to Omashu,” the old man replied. “I am going to Omashu.”</p><p>Aang sighed, trying not to snap. “I have to get to Gaoling first.”</p><p>“You left Gaoling.”</p><p>“I was taken prisoner!” he exclaimed. </p><p>“That’s right. That’s why you’re going to Omashu.”</p><p>“I don’t know how to get to Omashu, because I don’t have a map,” he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes. </p><p>“We’re going to Omashu, at sundown.”</p><p>Aang blinked. “What?”</p><p>“Isn’t that what you need?” the old man asked, finally turning back around to face him. </p><p>“You won’t let me even look at a map, but you’re giving me a ride to Omashu?” he asked. </p><p>“You’re looking for a map? Do you have a gold piece?”</p><p>“What is happening?” Aang muttered to himself. Maybe he really, really, hit his head, and this was all a dream of his addled mind - maybe he was still in the back of a livestock cart, dreaming up nonsense. </p><p>“That’s right,” the man said. He continued walking, but whistled again and motioned for Aang to follow him. </p><p>Aang eyed the man suspiciously. Maybe he was trying to convince Aang that he was a friend, but was really trying to ‘nab’ him himself. The old man, though, did not care to look back to see if Aang was following him. As he drew further away, down the sloping hill towards the docks, the nabbers were edging closer. Aang knew he wasn’t in any sort of shape to be flying long distances on his glider. Making a quick decision, he jogged to catch up with the old man, who didn’t acknowledge him. The people circling around looked disappointed and angry - that was probably a good sign. Ma Bingwen was still lying in a pile of thatch, groaning pathetically. </p><p>Aang followed the old man down to the docks, to a fair-sized boat with characters carved in the side, so old and weathered Aang couldn’t make sense of them. The old man began to walk up the plank but Aang halted at the edge of the dock. </p><p>“Why are you taking me to Omashu?” he asked. He didn’t really think this man had concocted some elaborate scheme to lure him onto the boat, but Aang didn’t want to escape one kidnapping attempt only to walk right into another. </p><p>The old man walked further onto the deck of the boat and dropped his bundle into a hole that led below deck, and it landed with a crash and a shatter. Aang grimaced. That poor tea set. </p><p>“You’ve forgotten.”</p><p>Aang thought he’d been doing well keeping up with this loopy conversation, but his head was still caked in blood. There could very well be something in this conversation he missed. </p><p>“What’d I forget?”</p><p>“They forgot too,” he said pointing out towards the market. He tapped his temple right on a liver spot. “I didn’t forget, though. Sharp as a tack, I am!”</p><p>Aang blinked. “Forget what?” he asked again.</p><p>“I stumbled on a pawpaw orchard that year - made myself a living, built a home on those pawpaws.”</p><p>The man seemed to cut in and out. Aang rubbed his forehead, waiting for him to get to the point. </p><p>“They don’t trust like that anymore. I was starving in the streets!” he shouted, spit flying. “But then I found that pawpaw orchard. I’d still be there if the blight hadn’t ate up the roots. You’re gonna bless me like that, again.”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“You are! They don’t know. They think money is a blessing, they’re cursing themselves. It’s bad karma. Bad, bad, bad, I know better. I’ve found a real blessing.”</p><p>Aang blinked tiredly up at the man. He pointed a shaking finger at Aang. “You. Air Nomad.”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“You’re my blessing. They forgot what a blessing, a good sign looks like. You know what they were gonna do to you?” he asked, casting his gaze around, paranoid.</p><p>Aang shook his head. </p><p>“They were going to trade you for a box of gold pieces and a foreign title. Walk up with me, I don’t like talking down at you,” he said, sitting down on a box with his back to the port. Aang sighed, but walked up and stood in front of the man. </p><p>“I was starving in the streets,” the man spat. Aang shuffled back the slightest bit, but the man calmed his voice down. </p><p>“But then I was blessed. Air Nomad. She gave me her dinner and her kindness, and then I found that pawpaw orchard the next day.” He leaned forward, searching Aang’s face. “Shame!” he yelled, and Aang flinched at the suddenness, the loudness.</p><p>“Shame! They bring it on themselves, nabbing Nomads.”</p><p>“An Air Nomad helped you once, and that’s why you’re helping me get to Omashu?” Aang asked. Earthbenders were usually so blunt and direct, like Bumi. This man circled the point but never quite touched it.</p><p>“That’s it.” The man stood and produced a cloth, wetting it with water from a skin and throwing it at Aang, hitting him in the face with a splat. </p><p>“Clean that. We set off at sunset,” the man said, pointing to the wound on Aang’s head.</p><p>Aang swiped the cloth over his temple, wincing at crusty blood flaked onto his hands. The man dropped to his knees by the hole in the deck and stuck his head below. </p><p>“Yaling!” he bellowed. “Yaling!”</p><p>“What?” a woman’s voice called faintly from below deck. </p><p>“Come up!” </p><p>“I’m busy!”</p><p>“Come up!” </p><p>“No!”</p><p>Aang rubbed his eyes with his arm. Even after being out for a day or so, he was still so tired. </p><p>“Come up now!” </p><p>Silence. Then a woman with a shaved head emerged out of the deck and placed her elbows on the edge of the hatch. She was pale with a wide face, and her scalp was covered in small, pink scars. She looked at Aang. </p><p>“You finally got one,” she remarked to the old man. </p><p>“We’re taking him to Omashu.”</p><p>Yaling glared at him. “We’re not going to Omashu. We’re going to Kyoshi.” </p><p>“I already told him we’re going to Omashu!” the man yelled. </p><p>“We just came from Omashu!” she shouted back. </p><p>“Stop yelling!”</p><p>“You stop!”</p><p>“He got nabbed!”</p><p>“I can tell,” Yaling snapped. </p><p>“You told me you’d help me,” the man said petulantly, sounding like a child instead of a weathered old man. </p><p>Yaling glared at him, and Aang realized he didn’t know the man’s name. After a moment, she relented. </p><p>“Fine,” she said. The man grinned and dropped behind her below deck. Yaling turned to Aang. </p><p>“Who nabbed you?” she asked. </p><p>“A waterbender woman and a man with a madu.” </p><p>She nodded, resting her chin on her hand. “That’s Nuka and Ming. They’re good nabbers,” she said with a nod of her head. </p><p>“Good nabbers?” Aang asked. </p><p>“Good at nabbing,” Yaling clarified. “I’m surprised you got away.”</p><p> “Me too,” Aang sighed. </p><p>“What’s in Omashu for you?” </p><p>Aang shrugged. “I have a friend there. I was traveling with someone in Gaoling when I got nabbed, so I was trying to get back there, but I guess I can get in contact when I get to Omashu.”</p><p>Yaling scowled and ducked her head below deck, hands still resting on the edge of the hatch. </p><p>“Why are we taking this boy to Omashu?” she yelled.</p><p>“He’s going to Omashu!”</p><p>“He said he came from Gaoling!”</p><p>Aang shook his head. “Please, we already had this conversation, he’s pretty -”</p><p>“People don’t go to Gaoling! There’s nabbers there!”</p><p>“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Yaling said, poking her head back up. </p><p>“I tried to ask him how to get to Gaoling but he wouldn’t tell me,” Aang said, wringing the red-stained cloth over the side of the boat. </p><p>“Gaoling is about a day and a half southeast of here, probably you’d get there sooner flying. He’s a bit touched,” she said quietly, tapping her temple. “We can still take you to Omashu, but if you have people in Gaoling, I’ve got an old map. It’s marked up but it’s fine otherwise.”</p><p>“Really? Thank you!” </p><p>The old man climbed out of the hatch and rolled onto his feet. “Ohhhhhh Omashu!” he said. </p><p>Aang watched him as he puttered along, prepping the boat to set off. </p><p>“Why is he so excited to go to Omashu?” he asked Yaling. She shrugged. “He’s been on the lookout for Air Nomads. He’s been obsessed since he lost his home. Like I said, he’s a little touched.”</p><p>Aang bit his lip. It was really difficult to fly long-distance, especially considering the shape he was in. He wasn’t sure he’d make it. And besides, they were headed to Omashu <em> anyway</em>, and even if Gyatso stayed in Gaoling to look for him, Aang could send word. </p><p>“How long will it take us to get to Omashu?” he asked Yaling. She cocked an eyebrow. </p><p>“You really want to do that?”</p><p>Aang shrugged, looking down at his hands. His wrists were ringed in pale brown bruises. “He said I’m a blessing for him - maybe this is meant to be?” It sounded weak, but people met and helped each other for all sorts of reasons. Here was someone who was bent on helping him - Aang couldn’t very well turn that down. </p><p>Yaling pursed her lips but nodded.</p><p>“We’ll be there in five or so days. We’re off at sunset!” she yelled up to him as she ducked back below deck. “Have everything you need!”</p><p>Aang placed a hand on his glider. That was all. No razor. No pack. Everything was back in Gaoling. He hoped Gyatso would be still making his way to Omashu as well - they’d been separated while traveling before, and that was always their plan. To keep on to the next stop and stick around until they found each other again. </p><p>Aang tightened his hand around his glider. They’d find each other again. </p><hr/><p>Gyatso walked through the temple. His clothes were green and gold, but it was no issue. He was home. The sky was pleasantly orange and red, like the color of formal robes.</p><p>Aang sat on the wall by where the bison slept. He was unmarked, no tattoos on his skin. He seemed closeby, but it was taking Gyatso a while to walk over there. As he walked, Aang looked around, and set a little scroll on the wall, tied up neatly with a string. The orange and red of the sky faded into dark grey, and lightning struck in the distance. These were no conditions for flying. Perhaps they could go inside, and have a game of Pai Sho as they waited out the rain. But Aang paid no attention to the sky. He set the letter down and flicked open his glider, taking off into the night. </p><p>Gyatso woke. He rose and peeked through the slats of the window of the Beifong estate. The sky was still black, but there was a band of deep blue on the horizon. It would be morning soon. It felt wrong to leave without Aang, to fly Appa without Aang gently encouraging him, complimenting his flying. Appa was a dark mass in the garden - he spent the better part of the evening stripping the apple trees bare. </p><p>Ru had been livid when Gyatso came back - that he had lied, that the Avatar was missing. But Ru wouldn’t send him away, to travel and be left alone. He insisted on sending word out before Gyatso left, to ensure that any news of the Avatar would be returned to both Gaoling and Omashu. </p><p>It was a bitter pill to swallow, that they had no real idea where Aang was. Heading to Omashu was something, at least - their contingency plan from when they traveled for fun and freedom rather than refuge. Gyatso worked to tamp down his fear - it did not help in any way, and Aang was both strong and clever. He would find his way back. </p><p>They would find each other again.</p><hr/><p>“Let’s go, up, up, up!”</p><p>What a strange dream. Kuzon pulled his blanket up over his shoulder and sighed. He yelped as it was ripped away.</p><p>“None of that, it’s time to get up!” his dad barked, clapping his hands in Kuzon’s ear.</p><p>“Uhhh,” Kuzon groaned. He squinted at the window above his bed – still dark. <em> How, oh how </em> did people get up before the sun? Who woke them up? How did <em> they </em>wake up early enough to wake these people? Did they stay up all night? What torture.</p><p>“I don’t have school today,” Kuzon groaned. It was a day of rest, a sweet day of rest without school, and he’d planned a grand schedule of nothing for it.</p><p>“I know. You’ve got something better,” his dad said, voice tight with pride.</p><p>A half hour later, the sun <em> still not up </em>, he stood in the square along with several other classmates of his, all looking much happier about being there than he was.</p><p>A severe, tall man dressed in a full soldier’s uniform, down to the massive shoulder spikes, was walking along the line they’d formed, saying nothing. Kuzon and the other kids standing next to him were dressed in an imitation of it, but streamlined, without pomp and frills, made of a heavy, durable material that stuck to his skin in the humid early morning. He surreptitiously tried to adjust his pants -  Kuzon hated the cold but he dreamed of a perfect world, where nobody ever got swamp ass after the autumn equinox.</p><p>Abruptly, the severe man was standing in front of him. Kuzon straightened unconsciously.</p><p>The man looked down his nose, glaring at him. For several long minutes, he said nothing, the silence stretching too long, treading into uncomfortable territory. The other kids on either side of him looked serious and patient, and the man’s glare wasn’t letting up. It was bordering on unbearably awkward when the man finally spoke.</p><p>“What is your name?”</p><p>“Kuzon, sir,” Kuzon answered, politely, the way he answered his teacher.</p><p>“How old are you, Kuzon?”</p><p>“Thirteen, sir,” he said. It was close enough, his birthday was in two days.</p><p>The man nodded. “I’m surprised,” he said, inviting an answer.</p><p>“Why, sir?”</p><p>The man lowered his face down, looking Kuzon right in the eyes. “Because I thought, by thirteen, most people would have figured out how to keep their hands from between their ass cheeks!” he yelled, gaining volume as he went on.</p><p>Kuzon blinked. Said nothing. The man furrowed his brows. “Why are you here?” he asked.</p><p>Kuzon knew he wasn’t stupid. But he knew people, and he knew what an absolute blessing it was that everyone thought he was the village idiot.</p><p>And so, stupidly, he shrugged. “My dad brought me here,” he said, knowing full well he was here to be groomed into becoming a soldier, to inflict another wound on the world. To learn how to use his bending to burn and maim.</p><p>“You are here to honor the Fire Nation. You are here to help the world. And you are making a mockery of everything the Fire Nation stands for!” the man screamed, still close enough to his face that Kuzon felt a droplet of spit hit his cheek. “So tell me: <em> why are you here? </em>” the man asked again, enraged.</p><p>Kuzon let only a beat pass between the question and the answer, a beat to show he was not just python-parroting. “To honor the Fire Nation, and to bring our glory and prosperity to the world,” he answered solemnly, a lie, an oath.</p><p>“Honor and prosperity are lacking in this world. I want to know that you will take this seriously.” He was looking for an answer, this was a demand of loyalty. To pledge fealty, or to brand oneself a traitor. Kuzon would not mark himself apart.</p><p>“I do, sir. The world needs our help,” he said quietly. It was true. He could help, here, in this way. Not the Air Nomads, but the Earth Kingdom, and the Water Tribe. People were always needed on the inside. People who never believed what they said, people with shrewd words and silver tongues. Kuzon was not shrewd or persuasive or suave, but he was firm in his beliefs, and he could do something rather than nothing. That was all.</p><p>The man in the soldier’s uniform nodded sharply, then stood and continued his walk down the line.</p><p>Honor, in how this man, in how his country spoke of it, did not exist. There was no honor in murder. There was no honor in war. Honor was conduct, honor was mercy, honor was grace and respect. His nation had no honor, but neither did Kuzon, for there was no honor in lying, no honor in stupidity.</p><p>The man began to speak again. The other kids relaxed just the slightest bit. Kuzon closed his eyes for a moment, nothing more than a long blink. This was a gift from the spirits. He only had to accept it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m not certain I like this chapter. I want to give the Air Nomads and Aang’s grief attention but I don’t want this to edge anywhere near trauma-exploitation territory. I dunno. I feel a little in over my head with this story as a whole, like I bit off more than I can chew, but as always - comments, call-outs, and concrit encouraged and welcomed.<br/>Before we get much further, I’d like to thank @yancheuns and @tisthequenchiest on tumblr for reccing this story! You guys rock! Please, go check out their blogs because it’s 10/10 content over there.</p><p>Okay, so some notes. I messed up the ages of a few people in the story… for some reason I forgot about the wiki and so was guessing for most of this story only to find out Azulon was actually a baby in 0 AG, but oh well! I’m sticking with it now - there’s so much lore from Korra and the comics and the novels that I don’t know, and so I’m not focusing too much on that. Except for the part where the old guy talks about Air Nomads being good omens/blessings, that stuff’s from the Kyoshi novels (which I haven’t finished yet. Oh, I’m a mess). </p><p>Also, before I forget, the title of this fic and all the chapter titles have come from Fleet Foxes songs. The title is from their song “Mykonos,” chapter 1’s title is from “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song,” chapter 2’s title is from “Grown Ocean,” and this chapter title is from “Icicle Tusk.” </p><p>The meditation that Aang and Gyatso do after leaving the Water Tribe was based around the Buddhist meditation practice of metta, or lovingkindness. I got a lot of my info from the explanation video and guided meditation posted by The Enthusiast Buddhist. I’m not certain I got it quite right, and if I messed anything up, was hamfisted or offensive please let me know! </p><p>That’s about it for now! Thank you guys so much, everyone who kudos’d, bookmarked, and commented, you guys are the best! I go through and read all the comments to give me motivation to continue this. This story is five times longer than anything I’ve ever written, and I’m flying by the seat of my pants. Please bear with me. I love you all. Kisses. Very sorry for blathering in the notes.</p><p>[EDIT 9/30/2020: See author's note at the end of Chapter 4.]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. the morning sun, shining restlessly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tassels swayed gently in the wind. The beads were old, faded with age despite centuries of care. Bison fur, dyed with turmeric and mace, and red pine beads. Gyatso recognized it, a relic of Avatar Sunil, his prayer beads that had spent the last eight hundred or so years wrapped around the neck of his statue at the Northern Air Temple. No such care was afforded to it here, nailed haphazardly to the door of a tiny house, built into the side of a mountain, overlooking a valley with a clear, still lake. Omashu was less than half a day’s flight, and by all means he was supposed to get there as soon as he was able to. But Gyatso would not be idle - many people unfamiliar with their teachings would often mistake pacifism for passivity. They could not be more different.</p><p>Gyatso leaned on his staff as he took their stairs up to the house, an artificial hunch in his back. He knocked, once, twice, as he was supposed to, as he pretended to put the pieces together. The door was, predictably, unlocked and slid easily in its tracks, newly greased. Not quite lived-in. It was dark inside, the air stuffy and still - no place of refuge. It would be suffocating to stay for a long time. The ones who took them, they did not think about these things. In the house, he saw no outlines in the shadow. He leaned further on his crutch, hunching his back like a properly elderly man, and used the movement to adjust his head, listening carefully to the movement of the air. It was easy, when it was as still as it was in this place. </p><p>Under the table, next to the far wall, he felt the displacement of air as a pair of lungs breathed heavily, through the mouth. No others, just the one, expecting an easy takedown and an easy payout. Gyatso shuffled his feet. The lungs under the table sucked in a quick breath, and moved. Gyatso straightened and sliced down with his glider, sending his would-be assailant into the wall, slamming heavily into the paneling, his head cracking audibly. Gyatso winced at the sound, but only slightly, feeling the pain in the back of his own head. The man slumped against the wall, a club on the ground next to him. </p><p>With these ones, the ones who hunted them, he felt some strange, bitter mix of pity and anger. They did not do this out of hatred or aggression, but out of desperation. People without means, people with debts, people without food or homes, looking for quick money. Gyatso wished their King had provided for them, wished the prosperity and extravagance enjoyed by the rich would translate itself into enough, for everyone. Perhaps that would have cut out this population of hunters, given them means beyond this base activity. The man stirred. Gyatso strode forward, taking the club from the ground. No matter. This man’s circumstances, the environment that created him, was of no concern to Gyatso. What was done was done and what was would be. He could protect his people, even in this small way. He left the house, still holding the club, and carefully took the prayer beads of Avatar Sunil from the door, placing them in a drawstring bag and pocketing them. He’d show them to Aang, when they met again. </p><p>In the light of the outside, he could see the club clearly. Light wood, almost white, stained with brown towards the blunt end. With a gust of wind behind him, he flung the club into the still lake, shattering its glassy surface. He watched until the water stilled again, then made his way from the house. He was due in Omashu. </p><hr/><p>The tip had been airtight. An Air Nomad, snatched by a pair of renowned bounty hunters, escaped by freezing his constraints on a warm day. The age was a match, as well, and the hunters turned in their tip and got their reward money, and mentioned that the boy had flown off into the town. </p><p>The town, barely big enough to earn that name, was tiny and dirty. The people were dodgy and suspicious, and watched as Azulon and his cohorts made their way through the streets. Azulon watched the people, meeting their eyes whenever he could. Anyone who saw anything he wanted to know about would show it in their face. </p><p>He watched as the people parted for his envoy. They didn’t bow or prostrate themselves like a proper Fire Nation town would, but the awe, the recognition of his authority were there. The foundations were already laid, and maybe it would take time, but they would be integrated well enough. A proper Fire Nation stock in this area would improve the place massively - a gentle dock town rather than the grimy population that lived here now. </p><p>A man found himself under Azulon’s gaze and flinched, dodging back into the crowd. Azulon broke from the envoy and pressed forward, towards his answer. </p><p>“You, there,” he called. The man froze, but did not turn back around. “Yes, you,” Azulon confirmed. The man turned around slowly, cringing. He was greasy and shifty, and wore a small white scar on his upper lip. Not a fighting scar, anyone who got a blade that close would go for the eyes. Fierce, maybe, but visibly unintelligent. No matter - once proper Fire Nation families were introduced, this would disappear in a few generations. </p><p>The man made his way forward, glancing uneasily at the soldiers behind Azulon. Azulon walked forward, widening the separation between himself and the soldiers. He could tell it made them uncomfortable - they thought they had to protect him. But he was the greatest Firebender in the world. He’d surpassed all his tutors, his own father. Such was life, marching ever forward. He expected such evolution from his children, and their children. Forward, never back. The future swallowed the past.</p><p>In the present, the man wilted under his attention. Azulon smiled, charmingly, loosening his posture in an unbecoming way - it would ease this man’s tension. </p><p>“What is your name?” he asked the man. He straightened, staring at Azulon like their conversation was a challenge to win. </p><p>“I am Shing of the Salted Earth,” he declared. Azulon raised an eyebrow. Someone in the crowd coughed. The man wilted again. He dropped his gaze, having lost the challenge. </p><p>“I am Ma Bingwen.”</p><p>Azulon could work with that. He took a step forward, offering another challenge, the unspoken promise to throw the fight.</p><p>“Ma Bingwen. I think you can help me.”</p><hr/><p>Aang was floating. It was strange - half a mix of laying on his back in still water, half the sensation of weightlessness that accompanied flying, just before descent. It was half dark and half glowing light. Half cold, half comfortable warmth. Half wakeful, half under the veil of sleep. </p><p>Through the haze of his vision, the world was a great curve. Above him, the hull of a boat cut a line of shadow. Below him, two massive whales pushed through the dark sea. The current of the ocean pushed and pulled him. For days, he slept dreamlessly, a hush, a rock back and forth, a push, a pull, the soft voice of a nun, the low murmur of a monk. And then the quiet cracked, and the halfway world was born into light, and the curve of the world regained its depth. He felt the pull of the earth and the stirring of wakefulness. The glow faded, and the warmth faded, too, leaving only earnest sunlight and icy coldness. The dream-like haze cleared and he woke. </p><p>It was dark. The boat rocked.</p><p>Omashu.</p><p>He rubbed his eyes. In his dream, it felt like he’d slept for <em> ages </em>, but now it felt like he could use a few more hours. Aang gingerly felt his head. The old guy had shown him how to wrap it so that it put gentle pressure that eased his headache. It was tender, but nothing like the day before. </p><p>He sat up. He was in a tiny room, on a small cot cut out of the wall. There were crates in the room, and his glider was on the floor next to him. He grabbed it and stood. In the far corner, there was a small basin of drinking water. In the opposite corner, there was a chamber pot, well-labeled so as to avoid confusion. Aang hoped it was merely preventative, and not the result of learning the hard way. He pried the lid off the water basin and kneeled in front of it. The water rocked back and forth slightly in an unbroken sheen in time with the movement of the boat. </p><p>He peered at his reflection. It was only vaguely recognizable. He had deep bags under his eyes, his rough Earth Kingdom clothes desperately needed washing. The bandage on his head wrapped over his forehead, covering his arrow, and a layer of dark stubble obscured the curve of the tattoo on his head. </p><p>Aang watched his reflection teeter back and forth in the basin. He didn’t look like himself. He didn’t even look like an Air Nomad anymore. It had been months since they fled the temple - autumn was nearly over. Two major festivals had passed by unobserved, he and Gyatso only offering each other words to commemorate what was meant to be celebrated communally or marked with a pilgrimage. </p><p>His reflection stared up at him accusingly. Aang shattered the surface of the water and brought it up to his face. He washed the crust from his eyes and rubbed the dark circles around them. They’d go away, in time. He reached behind his head, where the bandage was tied and began to unravel it. When he dropped the bandages on his lap, he raised his hand to feel his forehead. It just felt like skin, no raised area like when the tattoos were new. The surface of the water was still broken up, but it was stilled just enough so that Aang could see the blue of his arrow reflected in the water. </p><p>That small reassurance did wonders. He ran a hand over his head. The stubble was strange. It felt stiff, unbendable. Hair had always seemed soft. Perhaps softness came with length. </p><p>Nevertheless. He took another scoop from the water basin and brought it to his lips. It was musty and stale-tasting. </p><p>Yaling kept her head shaved. He could borrow a razor from her. He dusted his clothes off as he stood, and opened the creaky door. There were only a few stowage areas in the hull of the ship - he’d find Yaling fast enough. He made his way above deck and peeked out the hatch onto the upper deck. A man he didn’t recognize was fiddling with the ropes, adjusting the sails.</p><p>“Excuse me!” Aang called. The man turned around. “Do you know where Yaling is?” </p><p>The man blinked at him, hands still clutching the ropes. </p><p>“Who are you?” he asked.</p><p>Aang pulled himself fully on deck and stood. “I’m Aang.”</p><p>The man looked around confusedly. </p><p>“Okay? What are you doing here? You know Yaling?”</p><p>“Yeah! I met her and the old guy. The old guy said that you guys could take me to Omashu,” Aang said, the end of his sentence rising up like a question. </p><p>The man dropped his hands to his side. “<em>T</em><em>hat’s </em>why we’re going to Omashu?” he asked incredulously. </p><p>Aang shifted nervously. “They didn’t tell you?”</p><p>“No one tells me anything! I’m the captain, I should know what’s going on on <em> my </em>boat!”</p><p>Aang smiled. “Nice to meet you, Captain!”</p><p>“Ugh, just Bulan is fine. Here, raise this, I got a bone to pick with the old guy.” Aang took hold of the rope and finished raising the sail as the captain disappeared below deck. He waited for a moment - maybe the captain wanted him to stay until he returned. He resolved to wait for five minutes.</p><p>He lasted thirty seconds. It was fine. They were in the middle of the ocean, and the rope was solid. Aang disappeared below deck again. In one of the stowage rooms, he heard the muffled yells of Bulan and the old guy. He moved gingerly past the room where the yells were coming from, not wanting to draw their ire. He knocked on and opened a few of the stowage rooms. Aang peeked his head into another empty room and frowned. Surely, there weren’t that many places to hide on a small ship like this.</p><p>“What are you looking for?” Yaling asked from behind, startling him. </p><p>“I was looking for you, actually,” he answered. She pushed past him and opened the door. Her room, apparently. </p><p>“Come on in. What do you need?”</p><p>She grabbed a bag and started rifling through it. She had no stubble on her head, but there were a few nicks that were freshly bleeding. </p><p>“You’ve got blood on your head,” Aang told her. </p><p>“So do you,” she replied without turning around. He reached up and touched the wound on his head and his fingertips came away bloody. He winced. Maybe taking the bandage off was a little rash. </p><p>“Point taken. Could I borrow a razor?” Yaling abandoned the bag and dropped into one of the seats on the floor, looking up at him. </p><p>“You shouldn’t shave,” she said. “That could save your life pretty soon.”</p><p>Aang rubbed the short hair on his head again. A feeling of alienation was overcoming him, like a tidal wave. He tamped it down.</p><p>“I’ve always kept my head shaved,” he said in lieu of an explanation. </p><p>“And I always used to keep my hair long,” Yaling rebutted. The frustration he was feeling must have shown on his face, because she pointed her toes to the floor seat opposite her.</p><p>“Sit. Come on, sit,” she said. Aang sat cross-legged in front of her. </p><p>“We’re kinda opposite, that’s funny,” she said, pointing between her shaved head and his unshaved head. “Why do you guys shave, anyways?”</p><p>Aang ran his hand over his head - he was getting in a habit. “It’s about attachment - we shave so that we’re reminded to avoid and cut off attachment to anything, not just our hair. And it’s also about our tattoos, too.”</p><p>Yaling hummed. “I’ve seen ladies who keep their hair, though.”</p><p>“Lots of the elder abbesses shave their heads all the way. And the nuns who keep some of their hair shave to the crown of their head,” Aang said, indicating with his hand. “And they keep their hair simple.”</p><p>“What’s special about the crown of the head?”</p><p>Aang opened his mouth, then closed it. “I- I’m not sure. I’d have to ask.” </p><p>He should know. He should have asked before. Gyatso probably knew, but what if he didn’t? Were there many nuns who survived, who could answer that question? He should have asked before. </p><p>“Hey, hey, don’t look like that. You don’t have to beat yourself up just because you don’t know every little thing,” said Yaling. “After all, I couldn’t give you a detailed reason why cutting my hair was such a big deal. I know keeping long hair is about status. And I know it’s about identity and honor. But I don’t know exactly why. Don’t sweat it.”</p><p>Oh. “Oh! You’re Fire Nation,” Aang realized aloud.</p><p>“My dad was from the Fire Nation. My mom was from the Earth Kingdom,” corrected Yaling. </p><p>“Really?” Aang asked. He looked at her shaved head - the Earth Kingdom didn’t have the level of attachment to hair like the Fire Nation did, but even there it was precious. It hadn’t immediately struck him as strange, since he grew up around bald people, but the importance other cultures put on hair was no joke. He wondered what had made her shave it. </p><p>“My dad went into the navy as soon as he was old enough. He met my mom on shore leave in the western Earth Kingdom, fell in love like that,” she said, snapping her fingers. “He had to serve his required four years in the navy, but as soon as he was out he made his way back to our town and found my mom. She couldn’t believe he’d never forgotten about her. They got married, had me, and lived there until the occupation.”</p><p>“The occupation?”</p><p>“Fire Nation came in and took over the place. It was a good stretch of coast, they wanted it.” She shrugged. “They took it. It’s so silly - but I-” she cut off, pursing her lips, scowling like she was mad at herself for having feelings. </p><p>“This war… it’s a damn shame. I miss ‘em, every day. You probably know as well as I do.”</p><p>Aang looked at her, stunned. “Your family died… because of the war?”</p><p>She nodded. “The uprisings against the Fire Nation in our town went on for months after they came in. Their whole block was burnt when the soldiers tried to subdue it.”</p><p>Aang looked close to tears. “The war just started. How…?”</p><p>She clicked her tongue. “No, honey. This war’s been going on for a long time. It’s just that no one cares. The Earth King doesn’t care - it doesn’t affect him. He lives in a nice, comfortable bubble in Ba Sing Se. We’re on our own, and the quicker we realize that, the better.”</p><p>Aang broke away from her intense gaze, looking down at his hands. “What about the Avatar?” he asked quietly.</p><p>She laughed. “The Avatar? The Avatar’s not going to do shit. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t curse in front of you, you’re like, what? Ten?”</p><p>“Twelve,” he said. </p><p>“Either way. The Avatar didn’t stop this war. Why would he end it? We can’t just <em>rely </em>on one or two people to fix the whole world - especially not the Earth King and the Avatar. They had their chance.”</p><p>“That sounds like you’ve lost hope,” he said to her. </p><p>“Not like I ever had much in the first place. Especially not in the Avatar. I should, really - from two different nations, and all, and the Avatar’s all about balance. But Roku, you know Roku?” she asked.</p><p>He stammered for a moment. “I- well- yeah, I know of him. I don’t know him personally or anything,” he answered.</p><p>She gave him a funny look. “‘Course not, he’s dead.”</p><p>Aang nodded. “Right, right.”</p><p>She sighed. “He had years to stop this war. Now, the next Avatar? Wouldn’t surprise me if they died, too. I’m not trying to be cruel, honey, but most of the Air Nomads <em> are </em>dead - like the Fire Nation wanted.”</p><p>“And if the Avatar is alive?” </p><p>She looked at him funny, then, and he tensed and backtracked. “Just… if.”</p><p>Yaling blinked, pausing, but seemed to move on. Aang relaxed slightly. “Then maybe they can help. But I’m not going to bet on it.” She leaned forward and put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “There’s nothing in this world that’s guaranteed. You gotta look out for you and yours.”</p><p>He looked down at his hands again. </p><p>“You said you were traveling with someone? You’ve got someone to look out for?”</p><p>“My guardian,” he answered. She frowned. </p><p>“I’m not too familiar with what the Air Nomads do.”</p><p>“He raised me, and taught me everything I know.”</p><p>She smiled. “He’s not still raising you? You’re a whole adult?”</p><p>He grinned back. “No, he’s still my guardian. I had kind of a fight with him before we got separated,” Aang said, the smile melting off his face. “I heard about the safe house and I wanted to check it out - he told me not to, and I said he didn’t care enough about finding our people. But he was right, and I got us separated.”</p><p>“You think you’ll find him in Omashu?”</p><p>“Hopefully,” Aang said. </p><p>“Then you’ll make up with him then, and tell him he was right.”</p><p>Aang nodded. “He was. It’s just… being suspicious and being on guard all the time. I guess I’m just not used to living like that.”</p><p>“Well, no one’s born like that. The world makes you that way,” Yaling said. “You spend your whole life being chewed up and spit out by the world until you grow up and learn how to slip between its teeth.”</p><p>She’d gotten louder as she spoke, punctuating her sentence by punching the palm of her hand. </p><p>“What?” she asked, looking at Aang’s sad expression. He shook his head. </p><p>“The world’s not evil. And people aren’t evil. The monks have always told me that the ways people act have a lot to do with their circumstances. A runt mountain dog cast out from his family will be fearful and might bite you. But if you’re patient, you can earn his trust.”</p><p>Yaling raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And what if he mauls you?”</p><p>Aang huffed. “I’m not saying to be stupid or think that nothing bad ever happens. And no matter what you do, some people will always do the wrong thing, and you can’t change that. But if even one person can see that there’s <em> some </em>good in the world, and they change for the better… isn’t that worth it?”</p><p>Yaling looked vaguely surprised by the intensity of his tone. Then, she cracked a small smile. </p><p>“That’s very Air Nomad of you. You should give your wisdom to the old guy. He says to receive advice from an Air Nomad is a great blessing. I’m inclined to believe him, but,” she clicked her tongue. “I’m not sure I’d ever be able to follow it.” </p><p>“He keeps saying that. It’s kind of strange that he’s so…” Aang trailed off.</p><p>“Reverent?” Yaling supplied.</p><p>“Yeah, reverent.”</p><p>“He says that’s how it was when he was a kid. I don’t know exactly. It’s hard to follow him.”</p><p>Aang grinned wryly. “You’re telling me.”</p><p>“You gonna keep the hair?” she asked.</p><p>He ran his hand over his head again, fingers brushing the scab on the side of his head. Aang had been captured by two people - neither of them from the Fire Nation. It was probably a bad idea to go flouting his tattoos all over the place.</p><p>“Maybe just until we get to Omashu,” he said hesitantly. </p><p>“I think that’s a good idea.”</p><p>Aang didn’t reply right away. He raised his hand and dropped it again, an aborted motion to run his hand over his head. He had to stop doing that so much.</p><p>“Can I ask you something?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Aang frowned. “You said the two people who, uh -,”</p><p>“Nabbed,” Yaling supplied. </p><p>“The two people who nabbed me - they weren’t Fire Nation.”</p><p>She stared at him. “Is that a question?”</p><p>“Why would they help capture Air Nomads? I have lots of friends in the Earth Kingdom, and I have friends from the Water Tribe. I don’t get it,” he said. </p><p>“Money,” answered Yaling. </p><p>Aang blinked. “That can’t be al-,”</p><p>“Money.”</p><p>“But there’s m-,”</p><p>“Literally just money.”</p><p>Aang groaned. “Why, though? Like, why would you leave your home and your family to go send random, innocent people to be killed?” he demanded. </p><p>Yaling looked at him, stony-faced.</p><p>Aang stared back. A beat passed. </p><p>He sighed. “Money?”</p><p>“Money.”</p><p>“Ugh.”</p><p>“Not everyone has a tragic backstory that makes them how they are. Not everyone can justify their actions. Some people are just selfish.” </p><p>They lapsed into silence. </p><p>It lasted all of ten seconds before the door burst open. Bulan and the old guy stuck their heads in. </p><p>“Nomad!” the old guy yelled. Aang waved at him. </p><p>“What are you doing in here?” Bulan asked. “Who’s steering the boat?”</p><p>He looked at Yaling, who didn’t answer. He turned to Aang, who put his hands up.</p><p>“I don’t know how boats work! I’m used to bison!” </p><p>Bulan smacked a hand against his forehead. “For crying out loud, we’re going to run aground one of these days, and I’m <em>not </em>going to be the one to fix that mess!” he shouted as he disappeared down the passageway, pulling the old guy along with him. </p><p>“Bye! Bye Nomad!”</p><p>“Bye!” Aang shouted back. He turned to Yaling once they had left. </p><p>“I feel a little bad. I was supposed to be steering the boat,” she said, not sounding guilty at all.</p><p>Aang laughed, and then looked back at the door.</p><p>“Hey, what’s the old guy’s name? I haven’t gotten his name yet,” he asked. </p><p>Yaling shrugged. </p><hr/><p>The festival was lavish to the point of being obscene. Flower petals covered the street in a thick layer, soft and fragrant. A path of chrysanthemum and toad lilies, all red and orange and yellow like the street itself was on fire. Above, strung between the shop fronts and vendors, paper lanterns swayed gently in the late autumn breeze, hardly cool, but a sweet relief from the heat of summer. Each one was glowing softly, light from the cutout insignia of the Fire Nation bright in its center. </p><p>There were more people there than Kuzon had ever seen - the Hikari Ongaku festival was popular, but this was over the top. The streets were lined, packed with vendors, selling their wares, treats, drinks. Music, not different songs from all over, but from one massive band in the square, floated gently, hanging over the whole town like a cloud. It was slow, not the fast-paced dancing music like it normally was. Despite the number of people in attendance, the crowd was far less rowdy than it usually was. Every block or so, there was a pair of soldiers stationed - keeping order, his dad said when he looked at them funny. </p><p>There was a play going on, in the same area they were always held. Kuzon perched on the low wall, overlooking the stage, alone. He watched, for a while, as the main character, a strong man of great honor, was falsely accused of being a traitor. The man lamented onstage, for the woe of his life and the loss of his woman, then he had an idea. He went and traveled across wildlands, all alone, until he came upon a dragon. Behind a sheet, the actor wrestled with, what looked like to Kuzon, a large stuffed pillow. The sheet came up and revealed the stage again, the man holding the paper mache head of a dragon. He returned to his hometown and presented it to his people, professing his faith and devotion to his family, his home, and the Fire Lord. </p><p><em> Propaganda</em>. The word was clear in his mind. Kuzon didn’t know how he’d never seen it before. Years, years ago, Aang had told him that all their plays had the same story. He’d been more correct than he realized. The hero, off to commit some glorified atrocity in the Fire Nation’s name, returns a victorious and beloved war criminal. It was obvious, obvious beyond belief. </p><p>He watched the play dissolve into some strange message that you, too, can achieve honor by murdering a dragon, until a sharp poke in his back made him jump. A soldier was standing over him. </p><p>“You gotta buy a ticket to watch the play, kid,” she said bluntly. He jumped down from the wall, muttered an apology, and disappeared back into the crowd. His parents were probably looking at the craft goods. </p><p>Kuzon checked his pockets. He had a few coins left, and he bought a stalk of peeled sugarcane, presented in paper, chewing idly until the flavor was gone. </p><p>He leaned against the wall of a storefront and looked around. It was beautiful, more beautiful than he’d ever seen it - war money making them rich and happy. But the soft, slow music lilted down the street in a heartless sort of way. There was no joy in the voice or the music, and no dancing to this slow song. Down the street, Kuzon saw Shinji, and a few others from school, but he didn’t run to catch up to them. He sighed. It used to be so fun, so full of life. Now, despite the beauty and lavish decorations and sophisticated music, it felt… dull, almost. </p><p>The sugarcane went dry and tasteless in his mouth. It just felt like something was missing.</p><hr/><p>Aang sat in a triangle, down in the stowage area of the boat, across from Yaling and Bulan. They were eating cold jook, which at some point had managed to go both slimy and clumpy. Weirdly enough, one of the major things he missed about being home was the food. Fresh fruit and vegetables from the garden and orchards, balep and cakes and pies. He sprinkled a few slivers of cinnamon onto his bowl and ate another bite. It took a few tries for it to really go down, the texture horrendous. What he wouldn’t give for a fat, sweet piece of jackfruit, gluing his fingers together. </p><p>He tuned back in to the conversation. Something about bones and campfires. </p><p>“They swore up and down that it worked - I’m not saying it’s true but what’s the harm, honestly?” Bulan said. He looked at Aang for support. Aang, who hadn’t been listening, gave him a supportive smile and a nod, and Bulan looked to Yaling, vindicated. </p><p>“What if you end up wearing red shoes every day for the rest of your life because some fortuneteller told you to?” she asked. </p><p>Bulan huffed. “I’d have to be able to afford red shoes for that to happen.”</p><p>Yaling turned to Aang, and caught his eyes for a moment, then turned back to Bulan. “Well, you can always get your fortune told by Aang, here,” she said cryptically.</p><p>Aang hid a giant grin in his water cup, catching Yaling’s eye over the rim. He managed to smother it by the time Bulan looked at him. </p><p>“Air Nomads can’t tell the future,” he said, though it sounded like a question. After all, the Air Nomads were the most collectively spiritual nation. Aang bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, instead, casting his gaze left and right as if looking for non-existent eavesdroppers.</p><p>“Well… not directly.”</p><p>Bulan blinked. “Really?”</p><p>Aang leaned in. “There are ways.” He looked around again. Yaling was staring at him, stony-faced. She winked at him, barely there, without a flicker of change in her expression. </p><p>Aang looked back to Bulan, who was oblivious to their silent conversation. “I can show you,” Aang said. </p><p>The captain frowned. Aang shrugged and leaned back, picking up his bowl of jook again. “Or not, if you want. After all, it’s tricky. You never know what you might find out.” </p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Who knows! Oh well. It’s not for everybody, I guess,” he said nonchalantly. Yaling laughed and he elbowed her. </p><p>Bulan hesitated for only a moment. “I want to try it,” he said firmly. Aang set his bowl down so fast its contents rocked. He crossed the space between them and knelt in front of Bulan. </p><p>“Now, this is a very <em>very </em>serious business. And we can actually use the jook for this, which is great!”</p><p>“We can? How?” he asked, suddenly skeptical.</p><p>Aang peered down into the bowl. “It’s a way to float for non-airbenders. Floating and riding the current allows us to experience true freedom, and through freedom the future is revealed,” Aang said seriously. It was only half-true. To be like a leaf in the wind was the truest expression of freedom. To be like a - he cast his gaze around quickly, and picked up the first thing that would work - to be like a few slivers of cinnamon stick floating on the congealed upper layer of jook wasn’t anything at all. Neither had anything to do with the future. He sprinkled the slivers, like little matches, over the top of the bowl. Bulan groaned and tried to pull away. </p><p>“No, I hate cinnamon,” he whined. </p><p>“It’s for the fortune!” Aang insisted. “Besides, how can you hate cinnamon?”</p><p>“It’s not sweet enough to be sweet and it’s not spicy enough to be a spice.”</p><p>“Go like this,” Aang instructed, ignoring his protests, swirling the bowl around so the cinnamon sticks moved but didn’t slip under the surface. “Meditate on your future. Think about what will be.”</p><p>Bulan closed his eyes. “I’ll have a big house.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“And a clear lake right next to it.”</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>“And I’ll own a giant komodo-dragon.”</p><p>Yaling snorted. </p><p>“Okay, now open your eyes and look into the bowl,” Aang said. Bulan leaned over the bowl. </p><p>“One,” Aang started. </p><p>“One? One what?” Bulan asked.</p><p>“Two!”</p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>“Three!” Aang said, taking a giant breath and blowing into the bowl. Bulan dropped the bowl to the ground with a clatter and looked up. Yaling and Aang burst out laughing. Bulan blinked through the jook dripping off his face. </p><p>“I am the captain of this boat,” he said. A clump of the jook dropped from his cheek and landed on the floor with a splat. “I am an authority figure.”</p><p>Aang, still laughing, bent a gust of air into Bulan’s face. Much of the jook peeled off his face and smacked into the wall behind him, the rest caught in his hair. </p><p>“Sorry,” said Aang, grinning completely unapologetically.</p><p>“I just wanted to go to Kyoshi Island, and maybe get eaten by the Unagi, and end this nightmare called life. But no. No, my crew picks up random hitchhikers on my behalf, and me? I get jook in the face.”</p><p>Yaling snorted. “Calm down. You’re gonna freak him out with your I-wanna-get-eaten-by-a-sea-monster talk.”</p><p>Aang stood - there was a basin of water with a few rags in the corner. It was funny, but he wouldn’t be mean about it. Bulan seemed extraordinarily stressed at all times, and the joke hadn’t done anything to lighten his mood. As he walked across the room, the boat gave a mighty lurch, and he stumbled, catching himself on the wall. </p><p>“What’s that?” he asked. Bulan and Yaling were both looking up towards the ceiling. </p><p>“Did we run aground?” Yaling asked, standing. </p><p>“No way, we’re at least a day from the strait of Omashu.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t have let the old guy steer.”</p><p>“We didn’t run aground!” Bulan insisted. “I’m headed up.” </p><p>He made for the hatch to the upper deck, Yaling and Aang trailing behind him. Bulan began climbing the ladder and stuck his head up to the surface. </p><p>“Shit!” he ducked viciously, and lost his grip on the ladder, slipping and falling, leg caught in the rungs. </p><p>“What? What happened?” Yaling asked, disentangling him from the ladder. Aang sidestepped them and flitted up out the hatch. </p><p>Their small wooden cargo boat was surrounded by three huge warships, the red flags of the Fire Nation stark against the sky, with legions of soldiers stationed on deck. One of the boats was coming up fast behind them, and the old guy was at the boat’s wheel, throwing his full weight into turning it. He saw Aang and raised his hands, waving, the wheel of the boat spinning wildly and undoing all his hard work.</p><p>“Nomad! They’re here for you! I told you! I told you! Nothing good in this world - they’re angry, they are! No honest business these days -” he turned towards the boat that was coming up fast behind them and made a lewd gesture. “Learn how to weave! Get a job!” he shouted at them. Aang pointed at the steering wheel.</p><p>“You’re losing it!” Aang called to him. Yaling and Bulan emerged from the hatch. Yaling swore and ran towards the sails and began climbing the lines. </p><p>“No I’m not!” the old guy said, putting his hands on his hips as the wheel spun wildly. The old boat creaked with the effort, but managed to evade being struck by the warship coming up behind. Instead, it skimmed very close to the side of their ship, and several soldiers laid planks between the two boats and boarded the little cargo vessel. </p><p>“It’s a party! We’re having a little get-together!” the old guy shouted from the wheel, laughing, half-hysterical.  </p><p>“Shut up!” Bulan yelled back, pulling out two bronze aashi, massive curved blades with jagged teeth from nowhere at all. He gave a cry and rushed at the onboarding soldiers sweeping one’s feet out from below him and hitting him in the chest so that he stumbled and fell overboard. Bulan cut the planks, sending the soldiers still on them into the ocean or hanging from the edge of the boat by their fingers. Aang raced over to help, blasting soldiers away with a gust of air. </p><p>“Where were you hiding those?” Aang asked, falling back-to-back with Bulan, who wielded his weapons with vicious precision. </p><p>“We get onboarded by pirates at least twice a month - I always have them!”</p><p>“So you know pirates?” Aang asked interestedly.</p><p>“Don’t talk, just fight!”</p><p>Aang sent another pair of soldiers flying, but another warship had come up on the other side, and more soldiers were coming from that side. Yaling swung upside-down on one of the ropes, wielding a plank of wood like a club - but they were clearly outmatched, dozens of soldiers spilling onto the boat. Aang ran towards one of the barrels and pried it open, praying it was something useful. There was a strange, jelly-like liquid inside. </p><p>“Aang!” Yaling yelled. “Duck!” </p><p>He ducked without looking and heard a rush of fire over his head, then turned and blasted air towards the soldier behind him, sending him flying towards the edge of the boat. Aang stood and stuck his hand in the barrel - the contents were slick and smelled vaguely medicinal. He pushed mightily and tipped it on its side, the material spilling onto the deck.</p><p>“Please don’t be blasting jelly, please don’t be blasting jelly,” he muttered, kicking the barrel to get the last of it out. Immediately, the Fire Nation soldiers began slipping and falling, unable to stand without faceplanting again. Yaling, still hanging from the lines, grinned and flashed him a thumbs up. </p><p>Bulan was crawling slowly through the muck towards one of his blades that had skidded away from him. </p><p>“This is the worst plan! I hate this plan!”</p><p>“Sorry!” Aang called. From some unseen place above, the old guy cackled at the chaos on deck. </p><p>The two warships on either side of them were no longer attacking, with the remaining soldiers and crewmen leaning across the gap to assist their fellows. Aang peered at the largest ship, the one that was swanning along silently in front of them. On deck, there were several soldiers surrounding a single young man, his face framed by their shoulder spikes. Despite the distance, he was looking Aang in the eyes, his face wrought and unreadable. On the deck of their ship, a fire was lit. </p><p>Aang hopped lightly up onto the ropes, higher than Yaling, to get a better look.</p><p>On the deck of the larger ship, a catapult rested, shrouded from view by the soldiers. As he looked, the flaming sticker was hurled, the catapult whirring with the effort of throwing the massive projectile. It would sink their boat in seconds - Aang gave a cry of effort, and threw himself forward off the ropes, meeting the sticker in midair and kicking with both feet, fighting to keep the air from sending him backward instead of redirecting the movement of the sticker. It didn’t move as far as he’d have liked, and clipped the wall of the boat, but thankfully left the deck and hull intact. The wood smoldered, and so as he landed he bent a gust of air to put out the remnants of the fire, but the whirring of the catapult caught his attention again. </p><p>Aang hopped onto the edge of the boat’s wall, and threw his glider forward, leaping after it and flying over towards the catapult, ignoring the warbling yell of the old guy. The young man caught his eyes again, a strange expression on his face, but Aang ignored him, and landed at the base of the catapult. One of the soldiers bent and lit the sticker on fire, and Aang blasted him out of the way, bending a gust of air onto the projectile to put it out. It didn’t extinguish, his air only causing the flame to swell and surge. The heat flared, and Aang shielded his face. </p><p>When the surge died down, he took a deep breath, and bent, twisting his hands and making a huge tornado like he was told years ago to never make again because it only served to destroy. It tore the mechanism apart, and the sticker fell, smoldering on the deck. Aang slumped from the effort, but a blast of fire landed at his feet and he jumped away with a yell. The young man who had made eye contact with him was standing before him, the soldiers behind him, not yet advancing. The young man had a strange expression… almost bored, like this was a chore he had to finish up. He bent, still with that unnervingly disconnected expression, and Aang crafted an air shield to deflect his fire, the force still sending him backward. Aang had already destroyed the catapult, and he didn’t see any similar contraptions of the other ships, so he turned and ran for the edge of the boat. No business fighting one on one when he could rejoin his companions and escape safely. He jumped off the side of the boat, his foot still touching the edge of the hull, his glider halfway opened, when he felt fire surround him. </p><p>He bent quickly, a shield of air encircling him, but he was over the water, halfway suspended - it was difficult enough to shield himself fully, let alone keep himself in the air without a glider. He cried as the shield faltered and the heat reached his skin - it wasn’t letting up, it was only getting stronger, and he was falling and burning. He’d never see Gyatso again, or Appa, or anyone - he was failing. He wasn’t cut out to be the Avatar. </p><p>He was failing. </p><p>A light overcame him. </p><p>The fire parted, and he was no longer falling. The fire was his, now. His hands moved on their own, an ancient, practiced movement. Second nature. The soldiers faltered, unsure of what to do. A few fell to their knees. He was suspended for a moment, the fire dissipating, leaving nothing but a warm embrace around him, the air supporting him. He moved - oh, this, too, was second nature, well-practiced in his own time, a gentle reminder of the Southern style that had long been neglected by the Avatars, as the water surged and flooded the decks of the warships, sweeping them clean. Then the ocean surged, a great wave, and he pushed with an ancient might and the warships were cast away. The air, in ten thousand years’ ease, dropped him on the deck of the small wooden boat. The ocean ate up the soldiers on deck, spared the ones who helped him, and receded back into its place. The air ceased around him, and the light faded.</p><p>Aang fell. The wood was still slick under his hands and knees, but he was shaky, too shaky to even lift his head. He felt all of eight years old again, sick with quail pox and left behind when all his friends got to visit the Fire Nation. Gyatso had stayed behind with him, taken care of Appa for him, collected moonseed and tulsi and bahera and ginger to calm his fever. There were hands grabbing at him, and he gasped, flinching away but still weak and shaky, slipping on the slick deck and lying on his back. Two shapes above him, shadowed by the sun. He blinked back to the present.</p><p>Yaling and Bulan. </p><p>The old guy yelling from above. </p><p>“They told me! They told me I’d be blessed beyond measure to find another Nomad! Lookit! Look at me -,”</p><p>“Shut up!” Yaling yelled. </p><p>“Found myself the Avatar! Blessed beyond measure!”</p><p>Yaling looked down at Aang. “I like that you got me to talk bad about the Avatar in front of you,” she said wryly. </p><p>He grinned. “Surprise.”</p><p>“I’m gonna turn you in for that,” she joked. </p><p>“No!” the old guy howled.</p><p>Bulan was just gaping, silent and stunned. Aang sat up.</p><p>“Are you okay?” he asked. Bulan blinked. </p><p>Yaling waved her hand in front of his face. “Buddy, you good?”</p><p>He silently stood, and made his way below deck. Aang looked at Yaling, confused. Muffled, they heard yelling from below deck. </p><p>“<em>I </em><em>am the captain of this boat! No one tells me anything! </em>”</p><hr/><p>“Striking Dragonheart, again!”</p><p>Kuzon stifled a sigh. “Yes, Master Kenji.” </p><p>He went through the motions again. A kick, a double punch, a twist and a turning kick, and then a blank space. Kuzon stumbled out of his bending stance, then corrected himself. Maybe a palm strike? Kuzon struck out, bending a far-reaching arc of fire from his palm, but it shuddered and dissipated as Master Kenji grabbed his bicep and yanked him away. </p><p>“No, no! There is no <em>palm strike </em>in Striking Dragonheart!” he yelled, shaking Kuzon by the arm. Kuzon wriggled under his grasp. The man’s hand was heating up. </p><p>“Well, it’s in the <em>name</em>,” Kuzon said, regretting the words as they came out. Oh, he was an idiot, truly, the village was right. He might as well go stick his head in a ghostwasps’ nest - that was probably less dangerous than talking back to Kenji. </p><p>“Insolent boy,” Kenji hissed, tightening his grip on Kuzon’s bicep, fingers beginning to burn. “No one has taught you respect.” </p><p>Kuzon yelped as his arm began to burn, but after a few seconds, Kenji shoved him forward, releasing him. Kuzon looked at his arm. The blistered skin was roughly hand-shaped, pink and shriveled. It wasn’t the worst burn he’d seen Kenji give. He’d gotten off lucky. </p><p>“I’ll be talking to your father about this. He’s a good man - you bring shame upon his household. Go - you’ll be fortunate if I even think about letting you back in my class.” Kenji turned. The other kids were staring steadfastly at their feet.</p><p>Kuzon tapped at his burn and hissed. He began the walk home - if Kenji never let him back in his class he’d be lucky. It was exhausting, intensive, and it ate all his free time. Days of rest, after school, everything was training. Military forms best done with a fellow or a group. Why they needed to know how to create a wall of fire in front of them while marching had implications Kuzon did not care to think about.</p><p>His mom was reading when he got home. She looked up and smiled, but she saw his burn and her face fell. She clicked her tongue. </p><p>“Kuzon,” she said disappointedly. “What did you do?” </p><p>He didn’t meet her eyes. “I talked back.” </p><p>She twisted her lips, but set down her reading and stood, leading him to one of the kitchen chairs and sitting him down. She examined the burn with light fingers. She rapped a knuckle lightly on his forehead. </p><p>“That big mouth of yours,” she chastised gently. She went to the drawer and found a small jar of burn poultice. It was old and crusted around the top rim - they’d had it since Kuzon was little and couldn’t always control his fire. </p><p>She wet a rag and applied it carefully. Kuzon concealed his surprise. Normally, when he got his knuckles split by his teacher or a burn as a punishment, he was meant to heal on his own. </p><p>He blinked quickly. “Mom?” he asked. </p><p>“Hm?” she replied, still concentrating on his burn. He struggled to find the right words. </p><p>“I know I have a big mouth. But you still love me, right?” he asked. She looked up, confused. </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Could I ever do anything to make you not love me?” he asked in a rush. She softened, looking at him. </p><p>“Kuzon, you would never do anything to make me stop loving you. Especially not just because you’ve got no filter. But I know you don’t mean anything by it, and your dad knows, too.” </p><p>“But what if I did something bad, really bad?”</p><p>She paused in her ministrations “Are you in trouble?” she asked carefully, stiff. </p><p>“No, no! Just, what if I was like a murderer or a traitor or something?”</p><p>“Well, if you were a murderer or a traitor you wouldn’t be Kuzon. But I know you would never do anything like that. Where’s this coming from?” she asked. </p><p>He scrambled for an answer. “Just… just that Master Kenji is disappointed in me, and I think dad’s gonna be disappointed.” She was wrapping up his arm. The poultice was cooling and though the burn wasn’t severe in the least, it felt better to have it bandaged and treated. </p><p>“You’re still growing. They both know that - they’re just hard on you because they want you to be the best you can be. I know you can be the brave, honorable soldier that’s inside of you,” she said proudly, tucking his hair behind his ear. He sat a beat longer, letting himself feel loved, before standing, tall, straight, stoic, like a proper soldier. </p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>He went into his room. As soon as he was out of her sight, he let himself slump, hunch, let the weight of everything he felt settle on his shoulders. Kuzon knew that it wasn’t like him, to be stoic and serious and soldierly. No matter what his mom said, he’d never grow into it, because it <em>wasn’t him</em>. And her love, he knew, would diminish soon enough when she realized that. </p><p>For a long, numb moment, he wondered what it would be like, to love his nation like he used to, and do what it took to get the love and pride of his parents. To worry about nothing but himself. To let the belief that the other nations needed their rule and guidance, to look at conquest and feel pride. </p><p>The moment was gone in a flash, and he felt sick that he entertained it even for the space between breaths. Whatever discomfort he felt here was what he deserved, for doing nothing when he was called on. For keeping quiet in a crowd and for keeping quiet at the dinner table and quiet in the square. Whatever weight he bore was penance for his own cowardice. </p><p>He couldn’t go on like this. He needed a plan, he needed to <em>do </em>something. </p><p>His dad arrived home later than normal, and spent the evening ripping him a new one. Later, when everyone went to bed but the charged atmosphere in the house had not yet dissipated, Kuzon moved silently around his room, practicing his forms. There would be a chance, a real chance, again soon. He needed to be prepared to take it. </p><hr/><p>There was a good deal of traffic in the strait. Most of the boats had flag signals, and large crews taking careful note of the circumstances around them and adjusting their course and their sails with care. Their little cargo boat had no such niceties - Bulan was at the wheel, the old guy was making a valiant attempt to show Aang how to work the ropes and sails (though his metaphors were winding and… colorful, they were not, in fact, very useful). Instead of a flag signaller, they had Yaling, hanging from her knees on the ropes at the very highest point, hollering directions to Bulan, and instructions to the boats around them. All in all, a mess, but Aang could see they had this mess down to a science, and the chaos let them slip through some of the traffic, making it to the port well before many other boats. As they approached, Aang leaned over the side, the ropes a lost cause, and gaped. </p><p>They’d always come to Omashu by bison. There were stables, he knew, where bison could sleep, out near the wall before that long, narrow bridge leading up to the city. They had always been calm, run by a young lady who had an extra pinky on each hand. He’d never had cause to come down to the docks before.</p><p>It was <em>crowded</em>. From where they were, still out in the harbor, he could see the crowd moving like an overturned anthill. Omashu was a big city, but he’d never seen it quite like this, even in the busiest sections of the market. </p><p>“Woah.”</p><p>They docked, eventually, and only almost got into two collisions with other boats. </p><p>Yaling dropped lightly from the ropes onto the deck. She looked over at the crowds and then at Aang and the old guy as Bulan made his way over to them.</p><p>“Okay, we need to unload these fish to-day, they are not worth anything if they go bad, and so Yaling, I want you to go onto the docks and find a vendor who we can unload this onto, we don’t have time to set up shop.” He clapped the old guy on the shoulder. “You’re gonna help me unload, we gotta get these on deck so when we have a vendor,” he said pointedly to Yaling, “It’s all right here. Got it?”</p><p>Yaling nodded. “You seem like you’ve got a handle on this. The old guy and I are gonna take the kid into the city so he can find his dad.”</p><p>“Guardian,” Aang corrected. </p><p>“Yeah. So, you’ve got this, and we’ll be back later.”</p><p>Bulan’s jaw dropped. “No! No way you guys get to pick up a hitchhiker, completely throw off my plans, make me double back halfway across the ocean, and then leave me to do all the grunt work! You’ve been here before, right?” he asked Aang. </p><p>“Tons of times!”</p><p>“Tons of times! He’ll be fine on his own, besides he’s the-,” Bulan looked around. “<em>Avatar</em>,” he mouthed silently, “He’ll be fine.” </p><p>Yaling blinked at him. “He got nabbed like, less than a week ago.”</p><p>“And now he knows better. Chop chop.”</p><p>The old guy walked in front of him and clapped him on the shoulder. “The nets were woven of palm fiber, by the weavers of Ba Sing Se,” he said seriously.</p><p>Bulan blinked. “Yes.”</p><p>The old guy clapped him on the shoulders again, then turned. Bulan spluttered. “That doesn’t mean you can go!”</p><p>The old guy turned back around. “They are woven to catch ten thousand fish before they break.”</p><p>Bulan nodded. “Yes. Now let’s sell the fish they caught before they go bad.”</p><p>The old guy frowned. He gestured harshly to the nets. “They haven’t caught ten thousand fish yet!”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I think he’s saying you can always catch more fish,” Aang supplied. The old guy grinned toothlessly at him, then their little group turned and made for the docks. </p><p>“That’s not how this works! That’s such a waste!” he called after them.</p><p>“Better get to work then!” Yaling yelled back, cringing but smiling as he unleashed a strangled yell. </p><p>Aang laughed as they made their way into the crowd. Yaling nudged him. “You’ll find your grandpa in no time,” she reassured him. </p><p>“Guardian.”</p><p>“Yeah. Don’t even worry about it.”</p><p>“It’s good people here!” interjected the old guy. “They’re tall in Omashu!” </p><p>Aang thought that over for a moment. “Yeah, I guess they are kinda tall!” </p><p>They made their way up the bridge. There were a few people walking behind them, but it was nowhere near as crowded as the docks outside the city had been. There were more guards at the gate than Aang remembered, and they were not <em>nearly </em>as nice as they used to be. </p><p>“State your business,” the guard barked at their group as soon as they approached. Yaling gave Aang a shove forward. The guard looked at her with a raised eyebrow, then looked at Aang. </p><p>“Sir, I am looking for my guardian who might already be in the city. We are seeking temporary refuge in -,”</p><p>“Denied,” the guard cut him off.</p><p>“But-,” Aang started. </p><p>“Denied!”</p><p>Yaling put her hand on his shoulder, and turned him around. His stomach sank. All this way, for nothing. He’d have to sneak in through the sewers, after dark.</p><p>“Never mind, Aang. Some city this is, turning away an <em> Air Nomad</em>,” she said loudly over her shoulder. “After everything you’ve been through! Well, I guess that’s it for you. You can jump around the boats until the <em> Fire Nation,” </em> she said loudly and over her shoulder again, “Captures you. Guess the friendliest city in the world doesn’t care about <em> Air Nomads! </em>” </p><p>“Wait!” called the guard. The old guy snickered. “You…” the guard trailed off, noticing, finally, the arrow on his forehead, his face full of pity. “I’m so sorry! Of course Omashu extends our hand to the Air Nomads. Stay as long as you need. Open the gate!”</p><p>Yaling sniffed. “That’s what I thought.”</p><p>They walked into the city, the day still young and bright. Aang turned back towards his companions. </p><p>“We’ll find him in no time. I know it.”</p><hr/><p>It was approaching evening when the elation of finally making it to Omashu faded, replaced by the growing feeling that maybe this wasn’t as simple as it had seemed before. After asking yet another person who had no idea there were even Air Nomads in the city, Aang had suggested going to check the stables, that perhaps Appa and Gyatso were there, before a shop owner, in a very patronizing and pitying manner, told him they’d been torched and closed weeks ago. No one saw who did it. </p><p>The sun was low in the sky when Yaling called it. </p><p>“We’re not going to get anywhere tonight, and you don’t have anywhere to stay. We can head back to the boat, and try again tomorrow.”</p><p>The old guy paced nervously. “Just like the peacock. Flew off southeast and never came back. Now a war!” </p><p>Aang glanced at him. He’d gotten pretty good at deciphering his strange phrases over the few days they’d known each other, but every so often he’d spout something that just sounded like nonsense.</p><p>“We can try again tomorrow,” Yaling said, not acknowledging the old guy. </p><p>“Wait,” Aang said. “There’s someone I can get to help.”</p><p>Yaling hedged for a moment before nodding. Aang grinned. Then hesitated. His friendship with Bumi had been strange. They always found each other in neutral places, and never got quite as close as Aang had been with Kuzon. He didn’t even know where Bumi lived, exactly, had never met his family - and Bumi had never met Gyatso, either. </p><p>Oh well. When in doubt, ask around. Aang spotted a man pushing a cart full of lettuce and ran up to him. </p><p>“Excuse me! Lettuce merchant!” </p><p>The man turned to him. “How many you want?” </p><p>“Oh, none, thank you -,” the man scoffed and kept walking. </p><p>“Wait!” Aang called. “I’m looking for my friend, Bumi? Do you know him?”</p><p>The merchant looked at him incredulously. “Your friend Bumi? Prince Bumi, is that who you’re looking for? Get out of here - I gotta sell this stupid lettuce,” he said, picking up the end of his cart again. </p><p>“<em>Prince </em>Bumi?” Aang asked. The man rolled his eyes. </p><p>“That’s the only Bumi I know.”</p><p>Aang stepped forward. “Where can I find him?”</p><p>The merchant began walking again, simply pointing up to the tip of the city with a grunt. The palace, which Aang had never paid much attention to before, stood at the peak of Omashu, glowing with internal light in the muted evening. </p><p>The merchant walked away, grumbling. “My brother can sell cabbage all day - I had to do my own thing. No one buys lettuce.” Aang ignored him. </p><p><em> Prince Bumi</em>. Who knew?</p><p>Aang turned back to Yaling and the old guy and pointed to the palace on the hill. “My friend lives there!” he said.</p><p>“No one’s a farmer anymore! Fight for the title,” the old guy said loudly. The lettuce merchant glanced back, alarmed. Aang waved at him, smiling innocently. The last thing they needed was to be kicked out of the city for threatening to fight for the kingship of Omashu. </p><p>Yaling eyed the building warily. “Your little friend is the Prince of Omashu?” she asked, high pitched.</p><p>Aang shrugged. “Guess so. But now we know where to find him!” Aang said, leaping up to the next layer of the city, bypassing the large stairway. </p><p>“Let’s go!” he called down to the other two. The old guy stomped and the ground beneath him jumped, sending him up into the air, landing on the next level. Yaling dropped her head and began the trek up the stairs. </p><p>“No courtesy - the least you two could do is give me a lift!” she called up. </p><p>“You want a lift?” Aang asked sincerely.</p><p>“Do I look helpless to you?”</p><p>Aang put his hands up placatingly. “Sorry, sorry. You said you wanted a lift.”</p><p>“I’m just complaining.” She arrived at the landing. “But I am not taking the stairs the whole way. One of you is gonna help me out.” </p><p>The old guy nodded sagely, then stomped, sending Yaling flying up to the next level with a shriek. She stumbled on the landing and he giggled like a little kid, nudging Aang with his elbow. </p><p>“Airbender,” he said, pointing at Yaling, who had recovered enough to make a rude gesture down to the old guy. </p><p>Aang smiled at him. “I think I’ll help her up the next level.”</p><p>The old guy nodded once, then threw himself up to the next landing, the city in concentric circles. Aang shook his head once, then followed them, up to the palace to find his friend. </p><hr/><p>In the flat area leading to the palace, there was a garden with a manmade pond in the center, shaped like the emblem of the Earth Kingdom, the center design made of an iridescent blue-green crystal. The water was dotted with large, dark green lily pads and carefully cultivated blue water lilies, their yellow centers standing out like candlelight. Four bodhi trees marked the cardinal directions in the garden, each ringed by a careful layer of smooth, black stones. An earthen bridge was the only crossing point into the belly of the garden, with statues of some creature that looked vaguely like a lion flanking each side. On the ground was trailing chameleon plant, covering the area in hues of green and yellow and pink. </p><p>Their group crossed through the garden silently, taken with the beauty of it. Aang looked around with wide eyes. This was a genuine <em>royal </em>garden. At the Air Temple, their orchards and gardens had always been a little wild - vining plants free to spread across the walls and tree branches only pruned when they were sick or spindly. This garden was a masterpiece, a work of art. Everything about it was calculated and perfect. He couldn’t imagine the time and effort that involved upkeeping a massive garden to this level of manicure. </p><p><em> Bumi </em> <em>lived </em> <em>here. </em></p><p>They crossed another bridge out of that section of the garden - a strange lack of guards or even nobles to spot them. </p><p>“Shouldn’t a palace be more… guarded than this?” Yaling asked, voicing his thoughts. </p><p>“I guess not.”</p><p>The second bridge led them to a stone path leading up to a curtain of vines. They entered the area, sweeping the vines back. It was less manicured, soft grass a little wild and scraggly beneath the moonlight, with artificial waterways babbling softly. In the center of the garden area, Appa was sitting, raising his head and lowing massively as he spotted Aang.</p><p>“Appa!” Aang cried, running forward. Appa bounded over like a puppy, feet kicking, and knocked Aang to the ground with his massive head. He licked Aang across the face, and Aang snorted. “Ah, gross, Appa!” </p><p>“So, you finally put it together, <em> Avatar </em>Aang,” drawled an accusing voice from above. The old guy jumped, landing in a fighting stance. Aang looked and saw Bumi, crouching in the branches of one of the older, gnarled trees, grinning down at him. </p><p>“Bumi!”</p><p>Bumi leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “You went all this time without telling me you were the Avatar?” he asked, clutching his chest, face wounded. “I thought we were better friends than that.”</p><p>Aang smiled wryly. “Yeah, yeah, <em>Prince </em>Bumi. You’re one to talk. At least I didn’t know!”</p><p>Bumi cocked his head. “Did I forget to mention that?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Why, I’m certain I mentioned it before?”</p><p>“Nope. Not once.”</p><p>Bumi dropped to the ground.</p><p>“That doesn’t sound like me.”</p><p>Appa groaned again, dropping his head on Aang’s stomach. “<em>You’re too heavy for this, buddy</em>,” Aang said, strained, as he tried to push Appa’s head up. Bumi looked at him. </p><p>“You seem busy.” He turned to Yaling and the old guy, glancing between them, the old guy still in his fighting stance, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. </p><p>“Who are you?” Bumi barked. </p><p>“They have a boat! They brought me here,” Aang said, arms shaking as he pushed Appa’s head off his stomach. His arms gave out with a shake and Appa’s head dropped back down. “Ow! Appa, you’re killing me.”</p><p>“I’m Yaling.” The old guy pushed her to the side and put his finger in Bumi’s face.</p><p>“You’re not tall! You’re not very tall at all!” the old guy cut in accusingly. </p><p>“Neither are you,” Bumi shot back. </p><p>The old guy stared at him. Then laughed. “That’s true!”</p><p>Aang struggled out from under Appa’s head, standing and enduring another huge lick on the back of his head for his trouble. </p><p>“Is Gyatso here?”</p><p>“He’s inside. He’s been looking for you! You’re late.”</p><p>Aang huffed, but smiled. It really, truly hadn’t been that long since he’d seen Gyatso - they’d been apart for months, before, but - it was just - </p><p><em> Everything’s different now</em>, Aang thought. “It’s not like I had Appa! I got here as soon as I could.”</p><p>“Why isn’t he here, now, like you were?” Yaling asked suspiciously. “You obviously knew we were coming.”</p><p>“I had no idea anybody would show up tonight.”</p><p>Yaling blinked. “You were waiting for us. In the tree.”</p><p>“I can’t hang out in a tree every once in a while?”</p><p>Yaling huffed. “I can only deal with one crazy person at a time,” she said, pointing to the old guy. </p><p>“Who’s crazy?” said Bumi and the old guy in unison.</p><p>Aang laughed. </p><p>“Guanyu!” Bumi shouted suddenly. “Will you pretty please go find Gyatso for me?” he said sweetly, in stark contrast to the yell before. Out of the shadows in the corner of the garden, a soldier emerged, nodded once, and disappeared inside the temple. Aang startled, unaware there had been guards. He saw Yaling looking around, too, and in the shadowy areas, there were several dozen soldiers, all hidden in plain sight. </p><p>“Woah,” Aang breathed. Bumi turned, and looked at him, scrutinizing. </p><p>He hummed. “You look different.” Bumi looked at the short fuzz of hair on Aang’s head and the grimy, green clothes he wore, now desperately out of place in these pristine gardens. “I know what’s different! You got a tan!”</p><p>Aang blinked. “Did I?”</p><p>“Yes! You’ve been spending lots of time outside, haven’t you?”</p><p>Aang looked down at his arms. They looked like they always did. If anything, the weeks he’d spent in the darkness of the South Pole had leeched some color from his skin. He frowned. </p><p>“I don’t -”</p><p>“Aang?” </p><p>Aang turned around, a rushing in his ears. Gyatso was there, flanked on one side by the guard, and wearing some large green cloak with white embroidery. He didn’t think about it. It wasn’t even conscious, but one moment Aang was standing in the center of the garden, and the next he was in Gyatso’s arms, hugging him with with all his strength. </p><p>Behind him, he heard Yaling let out a patronizing ‘awww’ but Aang didn’t care. He didn’t pay any attention. Gyatso had a hand on his head, a strange feeling with the new hair. </p><p>“Have you gotten taller?” Gyatso asked, clearly joking but still a little choked up. </p><p>Without drawing back, Aang shook his head. “It’s only been a few days!”</p><p>“Of course,” Gyatso said, tightening the hug ever so slightly. After a beat, he spoke again. “Have you bathed once in the last few days?” he asked. </p><p>Aang shook his head, smiling as Gyatso laughed. “I can tell - you stink!”</p><p>Aang laughed. Maybe he should have been embarrassed - getting told about his body odor as he clung to his teacher like a little kid. None of the other nations were as free in their affections. But he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than safe. He’d made it. </p><p>They had finally made it.</p><hr/><p>Azulon calmed his energy, pushing his hands down and slowing his breathing. He was no fool - he would not delude himself with illusions of his own grandeur. He was the greatest firebender in the world. But the Avatar had untold lifetimes of training, practice, learning and relearning over and over. He had not stood a chance against the firebending knowledge of the Avatar spirit. </p><p>The current reincarnation, by himself, was untested. He had very little fight, and had only used his airbending. No water, despite the ocean around them. Likely, Azulon had interrupted his training with the waterbenders before he learned much at all. But ultimately, the Avatar still held the power of lifetimes. Of all the past knowledge ever imbibed in his spirit. </p><p>Azulon was greater than his father. And he expected his sons to be greater than him. In this way, he was like the Avatar, accumulating his learning, and seeing only improvement with each generation. </p><p>His father was a great man - Azulon admired him deeply. Others his age moved gingerly, arthritic and weak, but Sozin was strong like a young man. He enacted his vision for the world when the time was right, not succumbing to the temptation of instant gratification. Azulon would emulate these qualities. </p><p>Sozin was tortured. He was conflicted, and carried guilt like a physical burden, having left his friend to die. Azulon had been told the story years ago, as a child. And perhaps it was not guilt that Sozin carried, but regret, that someone he’d loved got in the way of his plans and needed to be destroyed. Azulon agreed it was a shame - if his father had been better, more persuasive, Avatar Roku could have been a great ally. </p><p>That bridge was burnt long ago.</p><p>Azulon breathed in deep. Power, in firebending, came from the breath. Two fingers - precise and deadly, controlled and without shame. His father had never been able to master this. Azulon would learn from his mistakes. </p><p>A circle, and a circle, and he felt the power build in his gut. From the stomach, he willed his power through his arm, out the tips of his fingers. </p><p>It was correct this time. He could feel it.</p><p>Out from his fingertips, the air was split as a bolt of yellow lightning arced into the sky. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*shows up a week late with iced coffee*</p><p>*immediately sets up really important plot point without any idea of what’s going to be done with it*</p><p>Ahaha.</p><p>ANYWAYS! Hi! I’m sorry this chapter is a bit late. And also short. I hated it, like really hated it, and then I tried that writing technique where you try rewriting the whole thing from memory so only the important or interesting parts get included, and here we are. Thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments on the last chapter, and thank you to everyone who kudos’d and bookmarked. </p><p>Special thanks to @yangcheuns on tumblr, again, this time for the title of this chapter! It comes from a song she recommended, Matahari by Chrisye (the title was taken from the lyrics in translation). Check out her tumblr for top-tier ATLA content, and check out the song for top-tier ATLA vibes!</p><p>You guys know how it goes. Works cited, baby. The old guy, in his line talking about the peacock that flew southeast is a reference to Burmese zodiac - the peacock is associated with the direction southeast, and is the symbol of the Hindu god of war, the philosopher-warrior Kartikeya. Moonseed, bahera, tulsi, and ginger are some of the ingredients used to treat chronic fever in traditional Indian Ayurvedic medicine. I think that’s it! Thanks again to everyone supporting this fic. You all mean the world to me.</p><p>[EDIT 9/30/2020: The lovely @yangcheuns pointed out that I was writing Ma Bingwen's name in the western given name-family name format instead of the proper Chinese family name-given name format! I went through chapters 3 and 4 and adjusted that. My sincerest apologies - like the original show, this fic borrows and takes inspiration from real-life cultures that I am not a part of. If anything I have written comes across as offensive, appropriative, or insensitive (or, in this case, just plain wrong) I want you guys to point it out to me! Much love, to all of you! &lt;333]</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm not quite sure where I want to go with this, but I have a skeleton for the story right now. I'm very sorry that the other characters we love from the show won't be in here, but I have always since I first got into ATLA wanted to read a story where Aang didn't run away. I have never found it - so I decided to write it. I hope I did it justice - if you have any comments or suggestions, please let me know!</p><p>EDIT 7/23: Hi guys! In the scene where Aang has dinner with Kuzon's family, I originally poked fun at the awful live-action movie by having Kuzon's father pronounce Aang's name with the long a, instead of the short a used in the show but I saw on Tumblr that "Ong" was the more proper pronunciation of the Mandarin name, instead of "Ay-ng" which is Anglicized! I adjusted that scene very slightly.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>